Number 6, Sanitatum Drive
by GhostDoor
Summary: Jo Delacroix: a mysterious neighbor, loner, drunk, hardened against the world. Harry Potter: orphan, unloved, abused, inexplicable events occur around him. Bonds can be made between the unlikeliest of individuals.
1. Chapter 1 Friendship

**Hello dear readers,**

 **This is the beginning of what, hopefully, is going to be a tale of Harry Potter's life if he had an early outside influence not even Dumbledore had foreseen. This is my first Harry Potter fic, so definitely any criticism, mistake checks, anything to keep this story as good as I can make it are beyond accepted and appreciated. If you are previous readers, please note that my other stories are on an indefinite hiatus. This story has been revolving continuously through my head for at least 2 years, and finally, my inspiration has brought me back into the world of writing. I feel so rusty, yet considerably different from my previous attempts. I'm hoping to bring a more mature story to the table, more realistic.**

 **As I stated before, please feel free to leave any feedback.**

 **Just a warning, this story will have a slower beginning, so please don't write it off if after only 3 chapters crazy amazing flashy chaos isn't occurring yet.**

 **Enjoy**

 **~Ghostdoor**

* * *

 **Part I**

* * *

 _ **August 1, 1987**_

 _ **6 Sanitatum Dr**_

 _ **Little Whinging**_

 _ **Surrey**_

 ** _"Friendship is like a stubborn child who is playing hide and seek with your life. You have to find him at the darkest places of your heart in difficult times. And when you find the child; his smile will light up the darkness of your life"-Sandeep Sharma, Let the Games Begin_**

* * *

Mr. And Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were prefectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.[1]

Ms. Delacroix, of number six, Sanitatum Drive, did not, or rather could not make these claims. Her house, although the neighbors would snicker derisively at it even being called such, sat directly on the other side of Mrs. Dursley's. It was boxy, just like all the others, however that's where the similarities ended.

Number six, Sanitatum Drive was an especially run down and curiously still standing house. The grass and shrubs grew above the window sills, seemingly an entity of their own as they always moved just right, so that anyone with a tendency for snooping could ever peek in. The roof sloped dangerously, as if a sneeze could send it sliding to the ground, but with every storm or gust of wind, it remained. The windows were dirty, the curtains tattered, and the mailbox hung on one stubbornly resilient nail.

Petunia Dursley absolutely detested that house, seeing it every morning through her kitchen windows. She had called the city officials, petitioned the neighbors, she had even sent Vernon to try and talk some sense into their disgusting neighbor, but all of it had ultimately and bewilderingly failed. The house remained, her unseen neighbor remained, and her horrendous morning view remained.

Josephine (Jo as she preferred) Delacroix, however, didn't seem to know that Mrs. Dursley and her hatred of her home even existed. In fact, I'm not so sure she even knew she herself existed most of the time.

* * *

Inside the detested house, through the curtain of cobwebs and dust, past the broken pictures and the creaky rotting stairs, and through the once grand but now decrepit entrance way, snores could be heard permeating the large sitting room. In the center of the wrecked, cluttered and dusty room, a figure shifted under a thin film of dust that had fallen over it during the night. The snores sputtered to a stop as the figure rolled to the left and right, obviously waking up in an unpleasant fashion from an even more unpleasant night.

Jo groaned, fresh sunlight creeping through one of the small, less dirty windows right into her face. She rolled away only to have something sharp stab into her side. Another groan, she rolled the other way, reaching behind her. A very dusty and crusted fork, the culprit of her new discomfort, soared through the room and crash landed into a very nice, albeit dusty, display of crystal figurines.

Hair that could only be described as the color of ash, greasy and unkempt, fell from her top knot and into her eyes. She blearily rubbed at them, grumbling and groaning the entire way into a somewhat sitting position. Her blue eyes slid closed for a moment, forgetting she had been trying to wake up. She groped around again, finding a much larger and less sharp object. It sloshed as she brought it to her lips, a glowing and swirling orange liquid sliding from the very bottom into her dry mouth.

"Need s'more," she slurred, her voice thick, whether from sleep or still being intoxicated from the night before, even she couldn't say. Stumbling to her feet, she steadied herself momentarily against a chair, and then promptly fell down as the chair finally gave out due to its years of neglect.

"Ga'dammit, bloody chair," she rolled to her back, staring at the cobwebs absolutely covering her ceiling. Blue eyes, surrounded by dark tired rings, dulled considerably as her continued staring straight up at her mess of a house. Her head slowly turned, taking in her surroundings.

There was supposed to be a couch somewhere to her left, but it was buried beneath boxes, dirty clothes, and the ever present dust. In fact, she could have sworn a large pair of yellow eyes were staring back at her from the mountain of junk. Dusty and laden down side tables were to each side, the legs seemingly bowed from their time of bearing unnecessary weight. The 'floor' was somewhere as well, covered in at least a foot or more of clutter, dirt, and smashed glass. Lots of smashed glass.

To the right was supposed to be another couch and love seat. They, too, were unrecognizable. Both were piled high with dirty clothes, trash, dirt, and a small little boy with bright green eyes, a cookie stuffed in his mouth as he stared back in terror.

Jo's eyes snapped open, her head slowly turning back to look at the tiny child who was, somehow, in her house. Eating her food. In _her_ house.

"H-hullo." The little boy, his hair sticking up in every direction, stuttered but didn't move an inch. He was terrified of being caught by the mysterious woman, more so if she told the Dursley's he had been eating.

"Who the hell are you?" Jo's voice was quiet, still carrying a touch of a slur from a long night of binge drinking. "And 'ow did you get in 'ere?" She had stumbled to her feet, holding a hand to her head as a short spell of vertigo over took her. The room spun for a minute, coming back slowly, blue eyes focusing on green.

The boy regarded her with extreme caution, setting the tin of cookies down on the floor where he had gotten them. However, the intimidating woman staggered past him, a hand slapped across her mouth as her eyes widened and an obvious retching noise bubbled up her throat. She slammed through a door, releasing a cloud of dust thick enough to obscure her from view.

The echo of her vomiting carried through the room. It continued for some long uncomfortable minutes as the boy anxiously fidgeted, deciding whether or not he should stick around for her return.

A faucet turned on suddenly, interrupted only slightly by the woman's forcible spitting. Then, all at once, silence descended upon the living room. Green eyes watched the door warily.

Jo settled herself against the cold counter of the kitchen, her eyes shut as she breathed deeply through her nose. Anything to stop the rolling and twisting of her stomach. She vaguely heard the creak of the couch as her new found 'guest' moved in the other room.

"Alright, you're alright. He's just a kid," she spit again, "a tiny creepy kid, that somehow crawled his way into this dump." She nodded once, the stiff muscles in her neck making themselves very well known at the movement. "I think you can handle a tiny child," she berated herself, standing and reaching for a relatively clean glass.

The sound of glass clinking echoed through the door and into the living room. Finally, she stumbled back through the door. One hand held a large bottle, full of a swirling orange liquid reminding the boy of fire. The other presented a small cup, directly into his face, with what looked like milk.

"Don't worry, milk's not spoiled," she sighed, grunting slightly as she fell back onto the neighboring love seat, sinking into the clutter on top. She held a hand to her head, eyes slanted to almost shut, staring at the boy as he inspected his glass of milk. Honestly, she couldn't find the willpower to ask all the question slowly leaking through the fog in her head, so she just stared. If she was lucky, he'd rat himself out like most children without much prompting.

The little boy seemed to debate with himself, glancing uncertainly at her again before gulping down the milk. His eyes closed briefly as if he was truly reveling in the drink in his hand. A foamy white mustache sat on his thin face as he looked around the room again, trying hard not to make direct eye contact with her.

"My name's Harry, I live across the yard, and I'm not sure how I got here." The boy, Harry, paused to look at her uncertainly again. She just took a swig of her drink, staring at him with a blank face.

Harry, perturbed slightly by her silence, instantly launched into a lengthier explanation. "My cousin, Dudley, was chasing me down the road. We were coming back from school, and he and his friends started pushing me down." The boy began fiddling with his cup, focusing on it rather than the woman's creepy stare. "So, I ran. I was thinking about sneaking through your yard and through the hole in the fence. That way I'd beat him home."

She took another long swig of her drink, staring down the bottle at Harry. "Still doesn't explain how you ended up here, on my couch, eating my favorite cookies."

A bright pink lit up Harry's cheeks as he looked at the very cookies she was talking about. "I don't know," she scoffed at that, about ready to toss the kid across the fence herself. She was not in a state to provide this situation the patience it required.

The boy flinched back, but his eyes seemed to glow with determination as he continued. "I was running, like I said, thinking about just making it to your house. Then poof, I was here. Sitting on your couch." His hands gestured frantically with his words, those green eyes wide and sincere, pleading for her to believe him. "It was like magic."

Jo stopped drinking, the bottle stilled at her lips as she closed her eyes. 'Isn't it always magic?' Slowly, she set the bottle down, and leaned forward, a great sigh escaping her as she caught the boy's eyes with her own.

"Magic, huh?" Harry nodded vigorously. "That's a good word for it." Sighing again, Jo reached across and plucked the cookies from her floor. Harry tensed as she neared him. He could hear her cursing quietly, muttering something under her breath, the word _magic_ reaching his ears.

Harry instantly realized his mistake, closing his eyes in fear as she continued muttering and sighing. You see, Harry had said the forbidden word. The 'M-word' which was not allowed, not even on accident. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had washed his mouth out with soap and taken the switch to him enough times he should know better. He wasn't sure what punishment this woman would deal out, but he was certain the word had upset her just the same.

Jo rolled the tin back and forth between her hands. It was blue with a small dog covered in pure white fur painted on the front. She really wasn't right for this today. Probably not ever. Her head felt like someone had planted an anvil in it, and she was pretty sure more vomit was going to be making its appearance in the very near future.

"Alright Harry, here's the deal," Jo tossed the cookie tin back to the small boy, uncaring of his flinching backwards, attempting to sink into the couch. "You don't tell anyone you were here, got it?" The kid looked up at her, confused. "Take the cookies, I don't like 'em much. Might as well let you keep 'em."

Slowly, Harry nodded, quite uncertain of these turn of events. "Yes ma'am-"

" No, do **not** call me ma'am." The kid jumped at her sharp tone, her face was probably screwed up ugly as well. She let out another little sigh, trying to release her face back into a neutral expression. Harry nodded again, unconsciously flattening his hair, a nervous tick his Aunt was trying to break him of.

"What should I call you then?," Harry asked quietly, peering up at her from beneath his hair.

She didn't respond right away. She didn't particularly want him to call her anything. Instead, she said "Time to go back to your own house, I'm sure your family's wondering where you've gotten off to." Harry didn't correct her, knowing full well the Dursley's would be more then pleased if he never came back. Looking down, he rolled the can exactly as Jo had, trying not sulk too much at the thought of going home.

She really shouldn't have, but she couldn't stop her face from softening at the dejected and miserable look about him. "You can call me Jo," she mumbled quietly, slightly hoping he wouldn't hear her.

However, she should have known right then by the sudden excited look that had entered his eye and the timid smile that had pulled up his cheeks, that another stray (of the human variety) would be stopping around in search of attention and friendship.

If there was one thing Josephine Delacroix had always had a weakness for, it was strays.

That night, Harry had been given the switch again. Whether for coming home late or for coming home at all, he wasn't sure, but as he laid on his cot under the stairs, he couldn't help but smile at the prospect that he might have made a real life friend. A kind of scary and grumpy friend, but a friend none the less.

* * *

[1] _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone,_ JK Rowling


	2. Chapter 2 Secrets

**Chapter 2**

 **Secrets**

 **August-October 1988**

 **"He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves."-Gabriel Garcia Marquez, _Love In The Time Of Cholera_**

* * *

Harry raised his fist to the splintering door, knocking three times in quick succession before taking a large step back. Nearly two weeks had passed since he had first found his way inside Miss Jo's house. He had wanted to come back the very next day, but Aunt Petunia had picked them up from the school. Dudley had a doctor's appointment, so she had made Harry wait in the car.

Next they stopped by a bakery so Dudley could have a treat for _"Being such a brave boy!"_ , and she made Harry wait in the car. Then was the corner market that sold Dudley's favorite chewing gum. He waited in the car there too. Then the market, then the butcher, and so on. By the time they returned home, Harry had to unload the car and start dinner. After dinner he had to do the dishes, clean the kitchen, vacuum the entrance hall and the den. Then he was sent to bed where he stayed up, using a small torch to try and finish his maths assignment before falling asleep on top of it.

The next week or more was much of the same. He'd had to clean the bathroom and Dudley's bedroom plus spare toy room. The garden needed weeding and the grass needed trimmed. The shed needed repainted along with the window shutters. Every day was a new chore on top of his daily house duties.

Except for today, because today is Saturday. His Aunt and Uncle had taken Dudley out, and Mrs. Figg had been unavailable to watch him. Thankfully, his Uncle had forgotten to lock the door on his cupboard, and he had been able to get away for a while.

Suddenly, he heard rustling from the other side of the door. He heard a muffled crash followed by a stream of curses that would have made Aunt Petunia blush. Finally, the door creaked open just a smidge, big enough for Jo to squint out of without revealing the house. Her ash colored hair was a tangled nest around her pale face, and her eyes were glassy and red with deep purple bags hanging below.

Her eyes finally settled on him, squinting even more against the sunlight as if she couldn't quite place his face. She let out a quiet "Hmm" before opening the door a bit wider so that she could settle against the frame. "What ya doing here, ki-i-i-i-id?" Her mouth stretched into a wide yawn, and a stench like nothing Harry had ever encountered before invaded his nostrils. Unconsciously, he backed up a step before offering her a timid smile. "My Aunt and Uncle are out of the house for the day, and I don't have anything else to do. I wanted to stop and say hi."

She seemed to find that amusing as her mouth actually turned up ever so slightly at the corners and her eyes crinkled just a bit. "Hi."

He really wasn't sure what else to say now. Honestly, he had hoped she would ask him to come in or really anything more then just _Hi_. A few seconds of awkward silence stretched into at least two minutes before Jo suddenly sighed and rolled her eyes lightly. "I'm not a mind reader, kid. You have to tell me what really brought you over here."

She really is kind of cranky, Harry thought as he looked down to his feet. Perhaps he shouldn't have come back. It's not like she had invited him back. Why would she?

Jo let out another sigh causing his shoulders to rise reflexively in anticipation of being told off and to leave. Instead, all he heard was the door creak again and her footsteps as she retreated back into her dark home. He looked up in surprise, barely catching sight of her as she turned the corner. "C'mon then, and close the door behind you. Don't need any nosy twats trying to peek about."

Harry jumped at the command, closing the door with probably more force than necessary as he squeaked a "Yes, Miss Jo", and ran after her. He found her sitting at a small table with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. Once again, he found himself in awkward silence unsure of what to do or say.

Jo watched the kid from the corner of her eye as he shuffled back and forth, glancing at the table and her then back to the floor again. Another smile tugged at her lips again which she quickly hid behind the newspaper. "Do you like reading the funnies?"

"I've never been allowed to."

Jo took a sip of her coffee, indicating with a slight nod of her head for the kid to take the seat across from her. "Let me guess, they're anti-god?," she snorted a bit as the kid gave her another funny look.

"No, just not allowed. Sometimes I steal them out of the bin though, and read them when I take the rubbish out." She watched as he looked anywhere but at her again, as if he realized perhaps he shouldn't have told her that. Taking another sip from her mug, she just silently slid the section across the table to him before returning to the article about a recent court hearing.

There was silence as they both sat, reading the paper. Until a very quiet chuckle pricked at her ears. Peeking over her paper again, she watched as the kid mouthed the words he read, hiding his lips behind his fingers. Another smile slowly spread across his face as a small giggle escaped again. He didn't even notice as a glass appeared in front of him, filled to the brim with orange juice. She hid yet another quirk of her lips as he drank it without looking up.

* * *

Another week had passed before Jo woke to Harry knocking on her door again. His last visit had ended rather quickly when she had finished her coffee and sent him on his way. For the past week she had tried to suppress this niggling tickle at the back of her mind that accompanied any thought of the small boy from across the fence. She wasn't sure why he was so drawn to her and her house, but she'd bet her left tit that _magic_ was a strong factor in it all.

Unfortunately, the kid had shown up during a very bad morning for her. A Hangover Mach IV type of morning that had her stumbling and wheezing by the time she reached the door. He stumbled in surprise as she swung the door open, pushed past him, and promptly puked into the overgrown grass. Tears and snot ran down her face as she dry-heaved and spat the taste from her mouth. She barely registered when a small hand timidly patted her in the center of her back. Her stomach finally settling back down, she leaned back onto her bum and kept her eyes closed and head tilted back.

"A-are you alright, Miss Jo?"

 _Miss Jo_ , she thought wryly. He was so naive and young. "How old are ya, kid?," she asked instead of answering.

"I turned eight on the thirty-first of July," he mumbled, obviously confused. "How old are you, Miss Jo?" She peeked an eye open at him. He seemed really small for an eight year old. "Twenty-seven. Wanna get something to eat?"

Somewhere far back, buried behind the fog in her mind and the strongest desire for something greasy, another niggle tried to prod. She was too tired, though, so she pushed it away again.

Harry walked a step or two behind Jo as she led them down the street. She had pulled her hair into a sloppy ponytail and covered her eyes with large sunglasses. Every few steps, she'd slow for a second causing his own feet to slow in return. Then they would keep walking. They passed quite a few blocks before coming to a busier street with small shops and cafes. Jo turned right, leading them down the road for another two blocks before stopping in front of a tiny shop. A red wooden sign hung crooked above the door. He mouthed the words as he read _The Simple Place_.

As soon as they entered, Harry knew this was a place Aunt Petunia would have refused to even glance at. It wasn't dirty or cluttered, nor did it have 'degenerates littering the tables', but in accordance with Petunia Dursley's rule book on life, it looked _cheap_. The tables didn't match and neither did the chairs, they looked as if they had been collected haphazardly from the trash and cleaned up. There were stringed Christmas lights hung chaotically across the ceiling. Pictures were pinned all over the walls, photographs of random people, places, animals and even a loo. His personal favorite would have to be the large wooden cactus with lampshades and streamers placed all over it with a grass skirt duct-taped to the middle.

"Two of my usual, please." He glanced back to Jo, finding her ordering food from a woman with very long pink hair and very long matching pink fingernails. "Bloody Mary today, Jo?" Jo just grimaced and nodded before turning towards him. "And for you, dear?," the waitress asked Harry directly. Floundering, he looked to Jo. He'd never been to a restaurant before!

Jo stared back, her face neutral as she tapped her head lightly with her index finger. He had no clue what to do, so he kept quiet and instead looked at the floor. He heard Jo sigh, and his shoulders went up. "C'mon, kid. We can't read your mind. Get whatever you want."

' _Get whatever you want.'_

Literally no one had ever said that to him before. He glanced shyly up through his fringe, looking at Jo then the waitress. Neither one seemed all that bothered by his lack of response, they just stood patiently. Well, Jo was rubbing her forehead and had her head tilted back again, but she didn't seem mad at him.

"May I have some milk, please?"

"I say, what manners you have, love. We waitresses always love to hear a good polite please," the waitress smiled and winked at him. "I'll have this out to you both in a minute, go ahead and sit." Then she was gone, her long pink hair trailing behind her as she disappeared through a set of swinging doors.

Jo led them to a table near the back. She didn't say anything, just sat and buried her head under her arms with a low groan. Was Jo sick? He really wasn't sure. She had thrown up the first time they met, too. He wondered if it would be better for her to go home and rest. Maybe he could sneak a can of soup over that Aunt Petunia always gives Dudley when he's ill.

"Are you alright, Miss Jo?"

"Just a headache. Don't worry none about it, kid." Jo's voice was low and gravelly, her breath clouding the table where her mouth was. "Food will make me right as rain."

They didn't talk again until well after the food had come out, and Jo had devoured nearly half her plate in a ravenous display that could almost compete with Dudley. She had drank three of those red beverages with celery sticking out like a straw. He was curious if they really did have blood in them.

"So," Jo suddenly spoke, finally setting her fork down and properly chewing her food. "First time ordering for yourself?" His Aunt would be horrified watching Jo speak with food still in her mouth. Harry giggled at the thought before nodding. "I've never been to a restaurant before today."

"Family not like eating out?" She started in on her fourth blood drink, raising an eyebrow when he shrugged. "They eat out, I just don't go with them." Jo sat back in her chair, humming in response as her eyes wondered around.

"Well then, how was your first experience?"

Harry smiled brightly, bouncing a little in his seat. "Great! I love this place, all the pictures and lights. It's so cool!" Jo's lips pulled up slightly, and Harry was beginning to learn that that was just how she smiled. Her eyes always crinkled at the edges, making her look even more amused.

They left soon after, walking back the way they had come. Once again, Jo would glance back at him and slow her steps, and once again, Harry would match her slowed pace. He was confused when she suddenly stopped, frowning back at him. Her eyebrows drew together. "Stay there," she commanded him before taking three steps towards him, leaving her directly to his side. "Now stay beside me this time."

Even though he was confused by her command, he nodded anyways and kept pace beside her as she started off again. Peering up at her through his bangs, he caught her eye as she peered down at him from behind her sunglasses. She smiled that little smile, reaching up and ruffling his hair. Pink instantly dusted his cheeks as he looked back to the sidewalk. No one had ever done that before either.

* * *

She hadn't realized at first, but after his last visit, she had been keeping watch for him as he walked home from school. It had started with sitting near the window, so she could glance out every now and then as she drank. Next, she had started walking out at the same time every day to fetch her mail and rifle through it while leaning in her doorway. She would hear him yell "Hi, Miss Jo!". She'd look up, wave and head back in. Then, three weeks later he'd shown up with a black eye.

"Well, that's quite a shiner you got there, kid." Harry just hiked his shoulders up and mumbled something about Dudley finally getting him. "Please tell me you at least returned the favor." He looked up at her with such a shocked face, she really couldn't help but let out a laugh. Rolling her eyes, she turned and led him inside, telling him to sit at the table. Taking his chin between her fingers, she tilted his head this way and that. It was swelling pretty good by this point.

"Close your eyes kid."

He did as he was told, oblivious to the flash of wood in her other hand and a bag of peas zooming across the house. She caught the peas and wrapped them in a towel that most definitely had not been there before. Setting the cold peas against his eye, she sat herself across from him with a sigh before taking a sip from the whiskey she had poured herself before his arrival. "So, gonna tell me what happened?"

Harry just shook his head, mumbling about Dudley again. Perhaps she had drank a smidgen too much before he had shown up because she had consciously been keeping those nagging pokes and prods at the back of her mind stifled. Today, though, it seemed one was bound and determined to break through. "Y'know, for being your cousin, he sure treats you like shite." That seemed to catch his attention, his one visible eye going wide as he stared at her in surprise. "Family doesn't treat family that way. He shouldn't be able to just do as he pleases to you. I just want _you_ to know, it's not right."

Breaking eye contact, he focused instead on the table as his shoulders began hiking up, as they were wont to do when he became upset. "It's what my…family does."

Jo sighed, taking another sip from her glass. "Well, they're wrong." He finally looked back up, and she shrugged. She said it so matter of fact, he believed her without a doubt.

Nearly an hour later, Jo and Harry were seated outside on her porch, eating sandwiches as the sun began to set. After he had been allowed to take the peas off of his face, the quiet boy she was accustomed to had suddenly turned into a chatterbox with seemingly endless question.

"What's your favorite color?" Jo snorted in reply as Harry continued to give her a very serious expression, as if this was indeed an important question.

"Grey."

"That's not even a real color, how can it be your favorite?"

"Because it is. What's yours then, Mister Color Professor?" She smirked, a new expression that he had never seen before now. He seemed to think on it for a minute, carefully considering his answer.

"Red." He smiled brightly at that, as if just thinking of the color made him inexplicably cheerful.

"How very Gryffindor of you," Jo said, rolling her eyes and taking a long sip from a clear glass bottle. Her brain quickly caught up with her mouth, realizing her mistake as she nearly choked in panic.

However, all Harry did was tilt his head in confusion and ask "what's a Diffindoor?", as he reached for another finger sandwich.

"Nothing, just a silly expression." Jo waved him off, smirking only a little as he huffed.

"You're lying."

"Prove it."

Harry just puffed out his cheeks causing Jo to snort again at his antics. Instead of answering, he stuffed the sandwich in his mouth and let the subject drop. Turning away, she let her eyes fall on the setting sun as the familiar feeling of ice began to creep into her veins.

Rubbing her chest absentmindedly, she began glancing up and down the neighborhood as the street lights came to life. Shadows began to stretch across the ground causing her eyes to jump between each one. Another icy jolt to her chest made her eyes close. She inhaled deeply through her nose and rubbed her chest harder. The air invading her lungs felt stale and suffocating, so she exhaled quickly, violently.

'Ma-Ma!'

Harry jumped as Jo suddenly shot to her feet, her blue eyes wide as she looked up and down the street frantically. She was rubbing her chest with her right hand, her left curled into a fist and began to shake beside him as her knuckles began to turn white. "J-Jo?"

Her wide eyes, eyes usually hidden behind a tired squint, bore down on him. Harry didn't know what to do now that he had her attention, this had never happened before. His hand lifted without his conscious decision to, and he laid it flat against the back of her whitening fist. "Jo? Are you ok?"

She blinked at him, her eyelids quickly dropping back down to slightly squint at him as per usual. He felt her fist begin to release as she breathed in for a long moment. On the exhale, he felt her fingers gently squeeze his own before she tilted her lips up just enough to pass as her smile and ruffled his hair. "Why don't you head on home, kid."

Harry watched as she turned and collected their dishes from the porch. She stepped up and across the porch. As she opened the door, she turned her head just enough to give him one last smile and a quiet "G'night, kid," and then she was gone. Standing, Harry stared at the door, hard as his mind tried to puzzle together what had just occurred. A loud smash from inside made his shoulders rise as he whispered a responding good-night, and took off back home.

Of course, he had been given the switch that night and had his dinner thrown out. He still wasn't sure if it was for coming home late or for coming back at all. When he finally laid down, favoring his belly over his stinging back, his mind instantly drifted back to Jo. It didn't truly click in his mind until the next morning when he caught sight of his own reflection as Uncle Vernon threw his plate of ' _burnt_ ' eggs at him.

Jo had been scared.

And her eyes hadn't crinkled when she smiled.

Maybe, he thought, Jo was more sad than she was cranky and strange.

* * *

After a night of drinking herself almost into the grave, Jo awoke with a strong desire to accomplish something. She also had a killer headache and stomach overflowing with lava, but a quick bottle of hangover potion (that she had to _literally_ beg for from a certain house-elf) cleared the worst of it, leaving her feeling only slightly dead. After a quick cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich, she was ready to begin Operation: Scrub This Dump.

After closing and securing all the blinds, she planted herself in the kitchen doorway. Shaking her shoulders with a deep inhale, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. On the exhale, her blue eyes opened with a sharpness that had been vacant for a long long time. With a small flick of her wrists, she raised both hands with a wooden stick in each. She stood poised in a position reminiscent of a conductor for an orchestra. "Let the show begin," she muttered.

Her right arm swept up, beginning the symphony buried deep in the core of her very being. A yellow light shot from the black stick causing bowls and plates, cups and silverware, and even a butcher knife that had been lodge into the wall to begin dancing through the air, over her head and into the sink, where the sponges promptly began washing. Her left arm struck out while the right continued conducting. A dazzling white light swept through the rooms, clearing the cobwebs and dust from all the nooks and crannies.

She didn't notice as her lips trembled, unsure if they should pull up or down. A tear glistened along her cheek as she shot off lights of royal blue, canary yellow, neon orange, and fiery red. There was a drumming coming from deep inside her, echoing up her spine to the top of her head and reverberating back down to the tips of her toes. Another tear fell and was followed by more of its brothers and sisters as the drumming turned into a song only she could feel. Only she knew this rhythm. Only her heart could beat this tune. Only she could conduct the outside world to the melody. She couldn't understand how she survived so long without feeling it tremble its way through her body like an earthquake.

Lost to the world outside of her personal concert, she didn't register two large grey eyes watching from between the rails of the stairs. Bat-like ears quivered in awe as lights danced through the lowest level of the house. It had been so long since such magic crackled in the air, the fine hairs on the creature pearlescent skin stood on end. It felt like a thunderstorm breaking the stifling heat after a drought.

Suddenly, a groan from the top of the stairs broke the trance. With one final look to the lights below, the creature fled to the shadows above.

* * *

His Aunt Petunia had been rather cross with him for having a bruise that showed, which of course meant questions. Questions meant attention. And any attention on Harry was bad attention. Bad attention from the school, the neighbors, and rather awkwardly, for Harry, a meeting with the teacher at the end of the week. Ms. Schult had brought awareness to the fact that Harry was bullied every day by Dudley and his gang of friends. Aunt Petunia had of course cried, first claiming that Dudley was just playing and didn't know his own strength. Ms. Shult had dubiously refuted this, claiming Dudley led many aggressive acts against his classmates and that it was an issue.

Now, Petunia Dursley wouldn't hear of such terrible accusations against her angelic little Duddykins. No, it's his friends, not Dudley. Dudley's a people pleaser, he just wants to make people happy. If his friends are pressuring him into the bullying, then it's not his fault, it's undeniably theirs. Ms. Shult didn't even have a chance to respond before Aunt Petunia dropped the real icing on the cake.

More importantly, the blame truly falls on Harry.

He terrorizes poor Dudley at home. You wouldn't believe the wicked things he does, the things he says. The neighbor woman had even accused him of torturing her cat. He was an absolute horror at home. Petunia herself was at her wits end on trying to control him and his violent tendencies. You can see why Dudley might react so aggressively when Harry is secretly abusing him. The poor boy.

Harry could only gape at his Aunt, then at his teacher as she suddenly nodded along in understanding. He watched in utter silence as the two women seemed to bond and come to an understanding through his Aunt's blatant lies. Harry was of course at fault. Ms. Shult will keep a better eye on him. How could she have missed all the signs?

That night, Dudley had smirked across the table from him, smug as can be, as he stuffed his face with pudding. Uncle Vernon had been beside himself in righteous anger at the fact that Petunia had to attend a meeting with the teacher because of _him_. "You'll go out and pick a good switch for tonight. Embarrass us like that? After everything we've done for a degenerate like you?"

"A home-" projectile bits of food landed on the table "-a bed," Vernon narrowed his beady eyes and aggressively pointed at the plates of piled food in front of him. "WE even feed YOU." He viciously tore a bite of meat from his chicken leg. "Ungrateful little miscreant. You should be kissing the ground we walk on for taking you in. Shame your parents didn't take you with them in that car crash. Selfish even in death."

Am inferno of anger instantly roared to life at the mention of the very parents he couldn't remember. However, Harry didn't respond, merely lowered his head and tried to shrink into his seat. He had learned long before now that any verbal response or attempt at self-defense meant an even sturdier punishment. The baby like portions of food on his plate were suddenly very unappealing, so he spent the rest of dinner pushing them around as the Dursleys tittered on about how utterly perfect Dudley is and Vernon's supposedly interesting work. The longing to run as far away as he could manage was hard to trample down.

Then it was time to pick the switch. After he cleared the table and washed the dishes of course.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, wishing hard not for the first time that he was _anywhere_ else but here, as the switch bore down against his back. He could hear Aunt Petunia telling Dudley to go inside, that he was too sweet to witness such a scene.

The switch made a sinister whistle as it cut through the air, over and over again. The stinging sensation began to turn to real burning pain. You see, Uncle Vernon had perfected this technique of hitting the same exact spot to cause the greatest amount of pain. One tear escaped Harry's eye as he grit his teeth in silent pain. He could hear Dudley laughing, openly mocking the tear sitting precariously on Harry's cheek.

His silent mantra, his only line to reality, repeated through his mind and grew louder with each solid hit.

' _I want to disappear, send me anywhere else but here.'_

 _ **SWISH**_

' _I want to disappear, send me anywhere else but here.'_

 _ **SWISH**_

' _I want to disappear, send me anywhere else but here!'_

Harry couldn't help but imagine sitting at Jo's little table. She was reading the newspaper with her coffee in hand. Squinting, as she does when she has her usual morning headaches. Across from her sat the funnies with a cup of orange juice.

 _ **SWISH**_

 **CRACK**


	3. Chapter 3 Broken

**Chapter 3**

 **Broken**

* * *

 **"The journey of reinvention is one** **of raw emotions**

 **Emerging from a dormancy**

 **Surprising as a paper cut**

 **Overwhelming as a hailstorm**

 **One part vulnerability**

 **One part rage**

 **One part surrender**

 **Uncomfortable**

 **Unfamiliar**

 **Unsure**

 **Fearful**

 **Alone**

 **Damaged**

 **Broken**

 **And finding a new self**

 **Slowly**

 **Different**

 **Healing**

 **Humble**

 **Present**

 **Open**

 **Longing**

 **Free..."**

 **-Dave Rudbarg**

* * *

 **CRACK**

Jo turned at the sudden sound, stumbling and nearly falling in her drunken haze. Steadying herself against the wall, blue eyes swept across the den and front room, looking for the cause of noise. The two wands in her sleeves slipped easily into her hands as she slowly began moving towards the darkened dining area. The quiet sound of soft whimpers and gasps echoed from the darkness. Someone or something was crouched near the table.

Training both her wands on the intruder, she entered the room with a frown. The headlights of a passing car suddenly illuminated the room, and she dropped her arms in shock, sliding her wands back into their holsters. "Kid?!"

The kid just curled into himself tighter, still whimpering and gasping as tears streamed down his face. She rushed across the room, sliding to her knees beside him. "H-harry. Wha-," she was cut off as he leaped at her and buried his face into her chest. The terrible sound of his whimpers escalated as he began to sob into her shirt and hiccough with desperate breaths. She brought her arms around him, trying to rub his back soothingly, but that caused him to wince and sink away from her touch. It gave her a better view of his back, though. She inhaled sharply through her nose at the sight of blood and the ripped edges of his shirt clinging to a long vertical cut. "Oh, Harry. Shh, kid. Shhhh…," she laid her hand on his head instead, threading her fingers through his hair as his tears soaked through to her skin.

They sat like this for a long while. Jo continued shushing him in a (hopefully) soothing fashion, rocking slightly. It was the only thing she could remember that worked for a crying child. Finally, the sobs started to quiet, and his breathing began to even with only a few hiccoughs. Turning his head, Harry stared at her table with an unreadable emotion in his eyes, but the tears had finally dried. She continued brushing through his hair, watching quietly as he regained his bearings.

"I thought of your table," his voice sounded more like a frog croak, but at least he had said something. She let him go as he pushed himself back up, rubbing his eyes which were swollen and raw. "I can't believe…I don't know what I did, Jo." He finally looked at her then, his eyes pleading for her to understand. "I do a lot of things, and I never know how. That's why they hate me. Because I'm a freak."

Frowning deeply, Jo reached for him. He flinched back, but she continued without pausing. She pulled him back into a tight embrace, once again threading her fingers through his hair. "You're not a freak, kid. They're the freaks for treating you so terrible."

This, apparently, had not been the correct thing to say.

Harry abruptly pulled back with a push to her arms, flushing angrily with a snarl. "Yes I am! The-These things keep happening to me! One time, Aunt Petunia cut my hair, and it was grown back the next morning! I made the frying pans fly around the kitchen once. I-I wanted my toy soldier to be real, and it started moving! I appeared on top of the school with no way down, I showed up here! How am I not a-a- **A FREAK**?!" Sighing, he locked those green eyes on her in a vicious glare. "You don't understand."

Perhaps he had needed that, to vent out his frustrations at not understanding what he was doing and why he was treated with such hatred. She could definitely understand. However, Jo didn't particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of that glare. She inhaled deeply, counted to ten, then exhaled violently through her nose. If the kid wanted a punching bag, an object to transfer all of his anger into, then he was barking at the wrong tree. "Sorry to tell you, kid, but if that's all that makes you a freak, then there's a whole world of freaks out there." Producing the wand from her left hand, she pointed it at the table and transfigured the dirty coffee mug into a candle that promptly lit on fire. "Including me."

Harry looked back and forth from the table to her, his eyes wide in shock. "W-wh-how did you do that?" Seeing the anger had taken a back seat to shock, Jo just gave him her little smile with eye crinkles galore.

"You said it yourself the first night we met."

"M-magic is real?"

"As you and me."

* * *

Arabella Figg peered through her binoculars, watching as the burly man and broomstick of a woman frantically searched the bushes. They repeatedly glanced over the fence checking to see if the neighbors had seemed to notice the strange disappearance of their nephew. After a few more minutes, the man finally just shrugged his beefy shoulders and ushered the family back inside, locking the door with one last paranoid glance at the yard. Despicable.

"I best be telling Albus about this one." Huffing, she turned to address the tiger striped cat rubbing himself across her ankles. "Them muggles, horrid people they are. Don't you agree, Alfred?"

"Mrrrow."

"Too right. They've gone too far, this time. Really, beating the boy like a beast,

What would they expect to happen?!" Arabella Figg hobbled her way back down the creaking staircase, her bathrobe wrapped tightly to keep from tripping. "Now the boy's gone. Oh, Albus is going to be in a right state."

"Mrrrow."

"Yes, of course he'll _know_ what to do, but that doesn't mean he won't be upset about it. Really Abigail, you know better then to question Albus Dumbledore," she stopped to scold the white cat stretched across the back of the couch. "Oh, where is my parchment?! Can't write to Albus on that terrible muggle paper. It'll tear apart in the wind."

"Mrrow."

"Oh yes, that's right. I put it in the tea cupboard. Good memory, Lyonel." The black cat just blinked as she bustled past. Opening the cupboard, she found the parchment rolls stuffed in the back with an ink well and quill shoved inside. She unrolled the page, and began scratching her letter.

"Dear Albus, The muggles- Oh, you wanker!" Snarling, she unfurled the top of the page, but the words had already smeared. To keep it from rolling again, she set her inkwell on the top and began again. "Dear Albus, The muggles went and lost the boy!- Oh bloody hell!" Stopping once again, she unfurled the bottom of the page and sat her tea spoon on it. Of course, the new words had smeared as well. Hopefully, the third time really would be the charm for the frazzled Missus Figg.

Dipping her quill into the inkwell once again, she began her letter.

"Dear Albus, The muggles…"

* * *

Harry sat with his back to her, transfixed by the colorful birds hopping around on the table. Her red wand trailed down the cut on his back, a faint blue light illuminating the tip as the skin knit itself back together. "Why didn't you tell me they were beating you?" She gave a small wave, cleaning the blood from his skin and shirt before repairing the torn fabric. His shoulders hiked up in response.

"It's just what they always did," he mumbled as his fingers bunched up the bottom of his shirt. A lime green bird nuzzled his cheek, chirping at him happily. He smiled at it earning another small nuzzle. "I never thought…" _that it was wrong._

Jo settled across from him at the table, a tumbler glass full of brown liquid appearing in her hand. Taking a long sip, she finally set the glass down and fixed him with a frown. As if she had known what he had been thinking, she stated in her matter-of-fact tone "Well, it was wrong. No one should ever put their hands on you like this." Harry shrugged.

Realizing the she wasn't going to get far with this particular topic, she decided it was time to talk about the other elephant in the room. "Apparation, by the way, is what you did tonight and the first day." Harry gave her that confused look of his. "You said you didn't know what you did, that's what it's called." And then she shrugged in a way that expresses she knows what she's talking about, and you can take it or leave it.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He looked hurt, realizing she had known all along what was wrong with him. "I was so confused, and Aunt Petunia just kept calling me a freak, and no one else was doing these things, and-" Jo held up her hand, halting his tirade.

"Well," she took another sip of her whiskey, leaning back into her chair. "I wasn't sure it was my place to tell you. There are lots of magical children born to non-magical families, usually the school takes care of informing families all about magic. And honestly, I've only ever experienced one of your accidental magic episodes, and I didn't even witness it. It was only a guess that you truly were magical, until tonight that is."

"But you thought I might've been. You could have asked," he pouted, his shoulders rising to his ears. She knew he was hurt and being very serious, but she couldn't suppress the smile at how _adorable_ Harry pouting was. It wasn't a face he pulled too often. He caught her expression and promptly glared at the table, an embarrassed flush tinting his cheeks. "It's not funny, Jo."

Sighing, she took another sip as she tried to reign in her amusement. "No, it's really not. I just never took you to be a pouter." She didn't smile when he glanced back up, but her eyes were crinkled. He glared at the table again, but his shoulders did lower as he mumbled 'I don't pout'. She just snorted in response. The duo descended into silence then as Jo turned her attention out the window. A battered old barn owl flew across the road before slowly ascending up and out of view.

Frowning, her eyes fell back on Harry, watching him as he watched the birds titter and hop about. His green eyes flickered back and forth between the birds as his eyebrows pulled together then relaxed again. Clearly, he was thinking hard about something. She remained silent, observing his face scrunch and smooth as he worked his way through his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at her with a determined eye very fitting of the Gryffindor she suspected him to be. Instantly, she knew whatever he was thinking, she was not going to like.

"Can't I just live with you?" His face was resolute, but his voice was soft and unsure.

Jo froze for a moment, but her mind was screaming her answer even as her heart went out to the kid. He had every right to desire freedom from those hellish people, to live somewhere he would be loved and his magical talent encouraged instead of suppressed. Hell, the kid deserved it. She sighed, taking a long _long_ sip from her tumbler.

"No, kid."

* * *

Dumbledore frowned, peering down his long nose at the recent update from one Ms. Arabella Figg on the young Harry Potter. Silently, he passed the letter over to Minerva who was giving him her most reproachful glare as she snatched it from the table. Just to rub salt into the wound, she then read it aloud so that Rubeus Hagrid and Severus Snape could be informed of their most troubling predicament that much quicker.

" Dear Albus,

The muggles went and lost the boy! They were punishing (and I use that term lightly, Headmaster) him in the backyard tonight, when suddenly the boy vanished. I told you, in the last letter, them muggles weren't right. Kept sending the boy to my house when they would go out. He's with me for hours, Headmaster. When he's not with me, he's doing all kinds of chores around that house. Not to mention the way that bigger boy treats him. They are terrible people, and I don't have the slightest as to where the boy could have gone.

Hope all is well, you must stop by for tea. My little Jilly-Bell just had a new litter of kittens that are just the sweetest things you've ever seen. Now if only that Mrs. Picks would stop trying to poison my little babies. She's a vile muggle, too.

Kindest Regards,

Arabella Figg"

The results were as expected. Hagrid broke into great wailing tears, Severus merely snorted and sneered before sweeping from the room dramatically, and Minerva...

Well, Albus Dumbledore was once again reminded as to why the students were so fearful of her steel like glare.

"I told you, Albus," She instantly began to pace his office. "Did I not, all those years ago, I _warned_ you." Her words were reminiscent of cat hisses, and he could imagine if she had hackles, they would be raised to their fullest at this very moment. She paused in her pacing long enough to whack Hagrid in the shoulder with the letter. "Pull yourself together, man. Crying will get us nowhere. We must find the boy. He could be lost in the city, or Godric forbid, he splinched himself in his obviously disconcerted state."

Albus raised his hands in a placating manner as she turned towards him once again, eyes wide with apprehension. "Minerva, we will find young Harry. I daresay Miss Figg has a tendency to dramatize events." Minerva's mouth opened, ready to pounce again, but he beat her to it. "However, I will have every available trustworthy person in search of him, and I am very confident in the fact that we will find him safe and unharmed."

Minerva's nostrils flared dramatically as she seemed to physically swallow the words she had been so ready to spit at him. Instead, she inhaled deeply, drawing herself back to her normally striking posture and nodded stiffly. "I will hold you to that. Come Hagrid, we have a missing savior of the world to find," she waved her arm dramatically, casting one last cold look over the headmaster before sweeping from the room. As he ducked out of the room to follow, Hagrid glanced back, with tears still gathering in his eyes, to nod once at Albus as his own way of promising to find the young boy.

Once they had gone, Albus again regarded the letter from Miss Figg. With a silent flick of his wand, multiple papers appeared from a rather shabby and well read magazine about wool socks that sat upon his bookshelf. He flicked his wand again, sending back letters that preceded August of this year. Once they had assembled themselves in chronological order upon his desk, he settled in and began to scour them for a clue as to the boy's whereabouts.

However, as he stated earlier, Miss Figg did have the unfortunate talent of dramatizing even the most mundane things. He is most certainly in for a long night, it seems.

Suddenly, an owl swooped through the window screeching its presence loudly. It perched itself royally upon his desk with a haughty look as it deposited a vividly red letter. It's golden eyes glared regally down its beak before it departed, screeching the whole way. As the howler began to unravel itself in preparation to 'howl', Albus couldn't help but think a glass of Hagrid's mead might be in order for the remainder of his day.

" **ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE, YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL! HOW IN THE SEVEN HELLS DO YOU LOSE THE SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD?!-"**

Bathilda Bagshot's unmistakable voice echoed around his office as Dumbledore, greatest Wizard of their time, _sulked_ into his headmaster's chair and listened to the deserved berating he was about to receive.

"Fawkes, would you be so kind as to fetch me a bottle of Hagrid's mead?" The pheonix, only too happy at the chance to leave the presence of the howler, disappeared in a flash of flames.

" **AND DON'T YOU DARE THINK YOU CAN SIT BEHIND THAT POMPOUS DESK OF YOURS, DRINKING MEAD! I WILL COME UP THERE AND BEND YOU OVER MY ARTHRITIC KNEE IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO. YOU HAD BETTER PRAY TO GODRIC, HELGA, ROWENA, SALAZAR AND MERLIN HIMSELF IF YOU DON'T FIND THAT BOY!"**

He sighed a great breath of relief as the little letter finally stopped its caterwauling, the most humiliated he had felt since his early twenties-

" **YOU GREAT TWAT!"**

With that final sentiment, the little red letter blew him a raspberry before promptly eating itself into shreds. Dumbledore, suspicious of the shreds, vanished them from his desk before once again focusing upon the letters regarding young Harry Potter.

It seems he was not the only one keeping an eye on the boy.

* * *

"Please, Jo!" Harry's face had gone red long ago as he fought the tears trying to fill his eyes. He couldn't remember a time he had ever been so _angry_ in his entire life. And considering the life he led, that was surprising.

Jo had stopped responding after his third please, instead she sat in stony silence with her head cradled in her hand, and her eyes squeezed shut. Her refusal to his initial plea had stung, worse than any night under the switch, but her silence _**hurt**_. He didn't understand. He thought she cared. He thought maybe with his magic she would want him. Why didn't she want him?

Why didn't _anyone_ want him?!

His anger suddenly left him, and he slumped into the chair. His throat was raw from screaming and felt clogged from the tears. His head thumped and felt heavy. Bending over the table, he rested his head in both hands as tears dripped down his nose and onto the wood. "Why don't you want me?"

A loud smack resounded through the room, making him jump back. Jo's hand rose again before smacking the table top once more, her eyes glaring darkly at the floor. She was breathing deeply and exhaling sharply through her nose. Harry was shocked into silence as her own tears began to streak and glide from her eyes, over her cheeks, and to the table. "Kid…Harry, you shouldn't want _me_."

She inhaled deeply again, but this time, her exhale was long and slow as she tried to calm the beating of her heart. Her eyes lifted from the floor and met his confused stare. "You shouldn't want me. I can't give you what you need or what you want." Her voice came out strained and weak. Merlin, she hasn't felt this pitiful in ages. She was usually too drunk to properly recognize any emotion.

But her heart was breaking. The cold hard wall that surrounded it was cracking and crumbling and turning to dust for the little stray boy that had wormed his way inside. She might feel pitiful, a disgrace, a waste of flesh, so horribly _weak_ , but she felt so very much for the green eyed boy. He just didn't understand. He didn't understand why she threw up so much. He didn't understand why she always had headaches. He didn't _understand_ why she couldn't be who he needed her to be. He didn't understand anything about her as he just stared at her with tears in those big green eyes as he silently pleaded with her to give him everything she knew he deserved.

"Kid, I'm _broken_."


	4. Chapter 4 Decisions

**Chapter 4**

 **Decisions**

* * *

 **"Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost."-Erol Ozan**

* * *

" _Kid, I'm_ _ **broken.**_ _"_

Her admission hung heavily between the pair. She was staring at him with such intensity that Harry wanted to look away. She needed him to understand. He needed to understand that it wasn't him. It could never be him. She was so weak, tarnished with a darkness that crept beneath her skin and seized her heart until she drank it away.

Their tears had finally dried, but the despair within them both still clawed and hissed, whispering their faults, their deficiencies echoing in their skulls.

At eight years old, Harry couldn't understand what those words truly meant. He didn't understand that her psyche was so broken and her will was shredded and burned. He didn't understand what pain Jo actually suffered inside. However, he did understand some things. He understood that Jo was his friend. His first real friend.

And he understood that Jo was hurt, just like him.

So he reached across that small table of hers, and clutched her fingertips with his own. "We can fix you, Jo."

Jo knew, _she knew,_ he was only eight. He didn't understand what he was saying, what he was promising. Yet, her heart was overcome, and those little words spoken so softly sealed over her soul like a balm. She sighed deeply, clutching at those small fingers in her hand. "That's not your job, kid."

He looked defeated then and tried to pull his hand back, but she gripped his fingers again. Their eyes connected across that little table. Suddenly, she exhaled through her nose violently, like a bull, and her eyes sharpened in a way Harry had never seen before. "If you-" she cut off, her jaw grinding as she sat up just a little straighter. "I will not send you back there. If you want to stay here, then you have to be patient with me. Kid, I am broken, and I have to fix that. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded quickly, his little heart beating faster as a seed of hope was planted inside his heart. Jo gripped his hand fully, engulfing it. Absently he noticed her hand was rough, scars and callouses pressing into his own skin. "I will never hit you or hurt you. You will never starve. You will never have to fear me. I will care for you to the best of my abilities, and I **will** treat you like my family. I will give you everything that has been denied to you so far. I will fix myself, _and_ you. If you choose to stay here, that will be your life."

She smiled then, a sad smile that Harry never wanted to see again. "It won't be perfect, kid. You and I, we're going to make mistakes. We're going to have to learn how to be a family together, and that means we'll yell, cry, laugh; so many things. It won't always be good. That's not how life works, but I'll try to make every day worth it, if that's what you want."

He stared at their hands, feeling how gently she held his own, yet it was firm, like her words. _That's how Jo is,_ he thought, _gentle and firm._ The desire for the life she described burned inside of him, and tears once again gathered in his eyes. He was so overwhelmed with emotions he had never experienced before, choking on them as she squeezed his hand lightly.

"C'mon, kid. Can't read your mind, remember?"

Harry laughed, well he let out some horrible choke that resembled laughter, and she smiled, eyes crinkled and all. "Can I stay with you, Jo? Please."

"Okay."

She always did have a weakness for strays.

* * *

Petunia and Vernon Dursley had decided against alerting the authorities of their young charge's disappearance. It would not do to have them showing up at the house and causing a scene. If the boy wanted to return, he very well could, but they both agreed it would serve him well to spend the night on the porch. A fitting punishment for the raucous and panic he had caused. What if the neighbors had _seen?!_

However, neither of them seemed all that displeased by the lack of his presence come the following morning. Their little Dudder's of course asked where he was. He was such a good boy. They distracted him with a promise of a trip to the park.

Petunia did miss having someone to clear the table and wash the dishes, though.

* * *

Harry awoke, confused, to the light of the sun streaming through the den's windows. His cupboard didn't have windows. He was laying on a green couch, a very familiar green couch in an equally familiar house. Although, the cleanliness of it almost made it unrecognizable. Memories of the previous night began to filter through the fog of sleep. Also, a severe urge to find a loo had him sitting up quickly.

He could hear voices coming from the front of the house, they were low and indiscernible. There had never been another person here before, and Jo had never mentioned anyone else either. Standing slowly, he nervously started in the direction of the voices.

Jo stood at the sound of floorboards creaking from the den. The kid must be awake. Leaning back down, she muttered to the house-elf who was bouncing excitedly on her toes. "Poppy, head on up and lift the veil. I'll be bringing the kid up today."

"Would Mistress like Poppy to make breakfast for the young Master?" Her bat-like ears flopped dramatically as her voice pitched almost an octave higher. Poppy was very excited indeed.

"Yes, please. Keep yourself scarce, though. He's never seen a house-elf before." Jo smirked at the she-elf. "Wouldn't want to scare him to death, would we?"

Poppy squinted at her mistress before huffing haughtily as she started flouncing up the stairs. "Young Master will love Poppy once he tastes her food!"

Rolling her eyes, Jo waited at the bottom of the stairs for Harry to make himself known. A minuted passed before she raised an eyebrow curiously. Stepping back into the room, she found him staring in wonder at the photographs on the wall. She supposed wizarding photographs would be a curious sight for the him.

Harry stepped closer to observe this new discovery. He had never noticed all these portraits under the dust and grime before. In one picture, a very stern looking and tall woman seemed to glare back at him as a tiny girl swayed back and forth in front of her. The girl looked bored and kept picking at the long dress she wore. The woman, seemingly annoyed with the child, grabbed her by the shoulder making the child stand perfectly still. Then it started all over again.

He decided to move on to the next photograph.

This one was exponentially different. The mood was happy and the people within all laughed and waved . He could clearly pinpoint Jo, who was laughing at another girl that had pulled a rather ridiculous face. She wore a large black cloak with a yellow and black scarf around her neck. She was surrounded by people in similar dress, a couple of which differed in having gold and red scarves instead. They were all happy.

Harry could feel the cold of an emotion he was very familiar with grip his chest with icy fingers. This emotion had over taken him many times during his upbringing alongside was jealousy. He had no pictures of neither himself nor his parents. Even if he did, he wasn't sure that any of them would be nearly as happy as the one on the wall. He wanted a picture like that.

"Those were my school friends."

Harry jumped nearly a foot high at the low and scratchy voice. Whirling around, he found Jo behind him, smiling slightly. "Easy there, kid. I see you've discovered wizarding photographs, huh?"

Blushing, he shook his head before returning his eyes to the photographs. He felt the tiny niggling of guilt at his selfish thoughts. It wasn't Jo's fault that he didn't have pictures.

"That was my friend Katherine," Jo's breath ghosted across his face as she pointed to the girl her younger self was laughing at that. It was stale from sleep and coffee, yet sweet even with the underlying hint of alcohol. "And that's Remus, Dorean, Eva, John, Holly, Amos, Frank and Alice." Her voice dropped to conspiratorial whisper. "They liked each other."

"Did they get married?"

Jo's was silent, taking a second to really gaze at all the people she had called friends. "They did, and they loved each other, very much."

He caught on to the past-tense way she spoke about the couple. His mouth opened before his brain could catch up. "Are they dead?"

She stared at the picture, leaving the question to hang between them for a moment longer causing Harry to squirm in embarrassment. "Not completely." Harry didn't know what that meant. He stared up at Jo, but she continued to stare sadly yet fondly upon the picture. "They had a terrible accident a long time ago. One they can never recover from."

He opened his mouth to apologize, but his body reminded him he had more urgent matters to attend to. Dancing from one foot to the other, he quickly looked around the room hoping to find a sudden bathroom in his line of sight.

Jo raised an eyebrow at his little dance, letting out a wheeze of a chuckle. "Come on, don't need you pissing your pants in my freshly cleaned sitting room." She led him out of the room, and pointed around the staircase to a small door, hidden in the wall. Instantly, he rushed past her and slammed the door behind him. Of course, Jo chuckled even more, but he was much too relieved at the sight of a loo to care.

Leaning against the banister, she waited for him to reappear as she studied the numerous pictures across the room. They had been her Father's favorite, so naturally he just had to permanently stick them to the wall. She personally had never tried to remove them, her mother however.

The bathroom door suddenly swung open, shaking her head she turned back to her new charge. "Feel better?" She smirked as he blushed with embarrassment and nodded. Reaching out to ruffle his hair, she couldn't help chuckling again. He really was adorable at times. "C'mon, kid. I've got a surprise for you."

"What is it?"

"Not exactly a surprise if I told you, now is it?" She raised an eyebrow at him as she stepped around him and started up the stairs. A few steps up, she glanced back when she felt his fingers grip the edge of her shirt. He tried to look determined, but she could see the nervousness in his eyes. She stepped to the side, holding her hand out. His fingers closed around her own, and they began the trek into the all engulfing darkness waiting at the top.

* * *

Severus Snape was not what one would describe as _pleasant_. Of course, he would most likely sneer and glare down his nose at anyone foolish enough to utter such a lie. He had no need to be pleasant. Potions did not require pleasantness to be magnificent, and that was exactly what he did- create magnificent and awe-inspiring potions. However, today he had been removed from his lab and thrown into the middle of a muggle neighborhood.

Apparently, the Headmaster believed he would be "best suited" in questioning one Petunia Dursley as to the whereabouts of her nephew. Lily Potter's son, to be exact. According to the Headmaster, due to Severus' and Petunia's childhood proximity in regards to his once known friendship with the muggleborn, he believed she would be willing to speak with Severus.

Severus was under no such delusions. He knew Petunia Evans, and he highly doubted that same sour and hateful girl had grown into a more tolerable woman.

"Who are you?" The petulant question came from an equally petulant child that had been stuffed into a sweater and page-boy cap. His beady blue eyes glared suspiciously up at Severus from his seat on his bicycle. Severus had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. This was obviously the child of that walrus Vernon Dursley. He clearly remembered seeing him at the Evans' house.

"An acquaintance of your mother. Is she home?," Snape ground the question out in a tone dripping with disdain. The child huffed before sucking in a monstrous breath. Already well accustomed to the heathens from his classes, a quick flick of his wand instantly stopped the more then likely atrocious caterwauling the boy was about to commit. The boy stared at him in horror, dropping his bicycle before fleeing into the house. Well, thought Snape, fleeing may be too gracious of a description for that waddling.

His lip curled, sneering after the boy, who had left the door wide open before him. Unwilling to cause a scene, he decided to enter the house. The sooner his business was finished, the sooner he could return to his potions.

Upon crossing the threshold, he could hear the boy's screaming fit and Petunia's unmistakable voice as she frantically questioned her child. Throwing his cape back, he snapped the door shut. Instantly, silence descended upon the house. Scaring the woman would unfortunately prolong this unfortunate outing, so Severus announced his presence.

"Petunia Evans, or should I say Dursley now?" His baritone drawl seemed to reverberate throughout the entire house before everything settled into thick silence once again. He heard frantic whispering from what he presumed to be the kitchen.

He only had to wait another moment until Petunia, the ever ready hostess, shakily exited the kitchen. "Yes, Dursley would be correct. More importantly, who might you be?" Severus raised an eyebrow, unbelieving for even a moment that she did not recognize him. She certainly had not changed much, same stick straight blond hair and long face that seemed to perpetually be smelling something foul. "Now, Petunia, you might have always been unpleasant, but I never perceived you as being daft."

Her pale blue eyes widened dramatically before squinting into an unmistakable glare of contempt. Then, as if it had been his imagination, she gave a mighty gasp of shock as if suddenly recognizing him. "You're the little Snape boy, the one who used to be friends with L-her."

He didn't even try to stop the sneer as he stared down his nose in disgust. "Yes, I was friends with Lily. In fact, she's the very reason I've found myself, unfortunately, in the same breathing space as you."

"What do you want? I thought I was done seeing the freaks of her world when she die-"

"Her _murder_ is the exact reason for us to still keep tabs on the likes of you. Or, more precisely, the child we were unfortunately forced to leave in your questionable _care_."

In his past, he could recall Petunia's face turning many angry shades of scarlet, but none seemed to compare to the boiling red that seemed to spread beneath her skin like fiendfye. She kept her mouth firmly shut, glaring at him in equal parts disgust and fear. Sighing in resignation, Severus pulled the wand from his belt, stroking one long finger along the polished wood in a careless fashion.

"Where is the boy, Petunia?"

Her blue eyes were glued to his wand, the unmistakable glimmer of fear turning them almost pale green. Funny, it was the only time he had ever seen her share a similarity to Lily. "I-I-I," she stuttered before gulping audibly. Finally, she raised her ghost shade version of Lily's eyes to meet his own. "He ran away. I don't know where the ungrateful welp has gotten off to."

Severus tutted, flicking his wand without releasing any magic. Petunia noticeably flinched, moving slightly to the left to better conceal the kitchen doorway. He considered it slightly admirable, that she would move between the considered threat and her son. It seemed she shared another similarity with Lily. "That is unacceptable. He is your charge, in your care, yet you do not know where he is? What if he has been hurt? In danger? Dead?"

She didn't respond, only glared while trembling in fear.

"Do you even care?," he drawled, glaring down his nose at her once more.

"Do you?," She hissed between her clenched teeth. "You, who pined after her pathetically only for her to fall straight into the arms of that Potter? Why would you care about _their_ child?"

Clenching his teeth in a rare show of anger, he quickly stowed away his wand before he truly did hex the woman. They continued to glare at one another, a deep hatred passing between them both like currents of lightning. After a minute that seemed to last an eternity, Severus turned with a dramatic sweep of his cloak. _Like the devil,_ Petunia thought.

"Find the boy, Petunia, so that I never have to look upon the disgrace you are to Lily again."

And with that, he left the small house with a loud crack.

In the wake of his departure, Petunia fell to the floor, silent tears falling from the pale green eyes as they slowly returned to their natural blue. She shook as the fear began to fade from her heart, and a prayer passed her trembling lips, whether to God or Lily, even she did not know.


	5. Chapter 5 Comfort

**Chapter 5**

 **Comfort**

* * *

 **"She taught me all about real sacrifice. That it should be done from necessity, not without exhausting all other options. That it should be done for people who need your strength because they don't have enough of their own."-Veronica Roth**

* * *

Harry could only stare in amazement at the sight before him. After a seemingly never ending climb, they had reached the final step. Once his foot had touched down, the previous darkness and gloom instantly lifted revealing...well, what could only be _magic_.

A room, if it could even be called that, stretched around and out before him. It had windows taller then the house he was supposedly within, with streams upon streams of sunlight entering from almost every direction. The floor was of an earthen color, he couldn't tell if it was actual dirt or stone. There were indescribably tall trees, very much alive and real, stood sentry around the entirety of the room. Flowers of every shape and color blooming at random, even from the ceiling! A large chandelier hung glittering in the very center, suspended from nothing but the air. He was positive at least twenty of himself could fit comfortably within it. Directly beneath the grand chandelier was a large pond with long, flat rocks surrounding it. Even from here, he could see the fish disturbing the surface of the crystalline water.

"Welcome, Harry, to the world of magic. Or more specifically, the Grand Hall of the Delacroix estate," Jo drawled as she came to stand beside him, her arms gently encircling his shoulders as he gazed in wonder. She let him stare, take in the entirety of what magic could create within a world that was completely ignorant of its existence. A small part of her hoped that he loved it. If not, well, there were many floors to choose from. Chances are he has to like at least one of them, she thought, but the expression he wore made her think that might not be a problem.

"Well, go on then. Nothing in here will bite," she smirked down at the boy as he looked up in apprehension. Tentatively, Harry stepped away from her comfort, starting in the direction of the closest giant tree. He started to reach out, wanting to touch the bark and find out if it was real, but stopped, looking back to Jo. Her lips turned up in amusement as she nodded. His fingers found the rough, yet smooth reddish texture, and he smiled. It was definitely a real tree. His mind began to race, began to wonder at how amazing magic must be for a room like this to exist in such a tiny house.

And then, as any other eight year old would do, he was off. He started off walking, but quickly gained speed in his excitement to explore the Grand Hall. Jo coughed a laugh behind her hand, slowly following the kid around the perimeter of the hall. It had been many years since she had stepped foot here, yet nothing seemed different. It had been waiting, it seemed, just as she had left it nearly a decade ago.

Stopping in front of the great redwood, she reached her own hand towards the trunk, but stopped a hairsbreadth away. Without touching it, she could still feel the _thrum_. She could feel the life inside its rings, moving and dancing, creating a beat that vibrated out to meet her. To welcome her and beckon her just another millimeter. _Touch me_ , it whispered, _we're waiting for you._ The core of her magic, her being, picked up tempo. She could feel the magic in the trees surrounding her, watching her from their godlike seats way above her head. _Touch me_ , they whispered.

She withdrew her hand and turned away. Today is not the day, she thought. She took a deep breath in, calming her magic and mind, before turning to find Harry. Her lips tipped up as she found him flat on a rock, staring down at the fish in the pond. Once she reached him, she sank down and watched as the fish swam to and fro, nibbling at his fingers before leisurely gliding away. "So."

Green eyes met crystalline blue as Harry beamed up at him. "This is amazing! How is the room so big?!"

"Well, magic, obviously," Jo smirked down at him, trailing her fingers along the spine of a particularly large fish. "It's hidden, again obviously, completely undetectable to outsiders."

"You mean, non-magical people? Like my Aunt and Uncle."

Jo shrugged, laying back on the rock on her elbows. "No, to everyone." Her face morphed into one of pain or discomfort as she mulled over her words. "This house is…well, it's weird, kid. Even in the magical world, it's weird." Harry froze when a large groan like sound suddenly echoed around the great room, vibrating his teeth and spine. Jo rolled her eyes and released a heavy sigh. "Like that. That's weird, y'know." She wasn't talking to him, though. Her statement was aimed at the ceiling as if she was talking to the house itself. "Damn house. C'mon, kid. Let's go get breakfast, there's someone I want you to meet." Jo stood, dusting herself off with another glare at the redwood.

"Meet? Someone else lives here?," Harry questioned, hastening to get up and follow her as she started for a large doorway opposite of where they had entered. Long thick vines hung across it, acting as a door. Jo paused, letting the kid catch up before giving him another easy smile. "Her name's Poppy, and she is beyond excited to have someone else here, seeing as all I do is ' _mope around and sleep, like a homeless man',_ " Jo started chuckling again after her very high pitched and squeaky impersonation of the she-elf.

Harry had so many questions after that statement, but the look in her eye as she chuckled made him bite his tongue. He followed her through the foliage into a hallway that was just as overgrown with greenery as the hall. There were portraits with people moving inside, but they all seemed to stop in shock at the sight of the pair. Harry patted at his hair in embarrassment, wondering if he looked funny. Jo just ignored them, sending a few warning glares over Harry's head if any of them opened their mouth. She wasn't particularly worried they would be rude, but some of the things that came out of those enchanted mouths were just bizarre. Not to mention, inappropriate for a child.

Finally, they stopped in front of another doorway filled with waxy leaves and vines. The intoxicating aroma of food made his mouth instantly water. He hadn't eaten in, well, longer then a day. His stomach willed his feet forward, but Jo's hand on his shoulder brought him to a stop. She squinted down at him, her mouth tilted ever so slightly in another Jo smile. "So, you can't freak out."

"W-what?," Harry stared at her in confusion. "Freak out about what?"

"Poppy. It'll hurt her feelings." She shrugged then ruffled his hair. "Alright, let's go then."

Harry didn't have time to properly wonder why he would freak out before being propelled through the vines with Jo one step behind him. The first thing he noticed, of course, were the plates filled with food along the bar-styled table. Eggs, bacon, biscuits and fruits were piled high on large plates. Then his focus snapped to the pots and pans floating through the air before plunging into a large sink. They were promptly scrubbed and floated themselves into a towel to be dried. He watched as the clean dishes floated back along before settling themselves on shelves above a large stove.

"My Mistress, Young Master; breakfast is served," a voice squeaked, startling Harry. He looked around, but saw no one. Slowly, he approached the bar and sat himself beside Jo, who was already reading the newspaper as a coffee pot floated in front of her filling the mug in her outstretched hand. Turning back to the table, he really did jump when he noticed two large grey eyes staring at him from over the counter. They were surrounded by grey skin and large floppy ears that reminded him of a bat. Did Jo have a giant talking magical bat?!

"Poppy," Jo muttered, squinting over her paper at the bat-thing. "You're scaring him." He heard a dainty sniff before the bat ears and eyes began to rise. A triangular face, which was just as bat-like as the ears, came into view followed by long arms and a body with a bright yellow dress. "Young Master is not scared, Poppy is too cute to be scary," the she-elf huffed before turning her attention on her new audience. "Is you hungry, Young Master?"

Not trusting himself to _not freak out!_ , Harry nodded with a very unsure smile. "Wonderful!," the bat-thing, Poppy, clapped her hands happily and started to fill his plate. Her large grey eyes smiled at Harry from over the counter, as she hummed a strange and high-pitched tune. Finding his voice, Harry offered her a much more genuine, albeit still small, smile. "M'sorry, I've never met…someone like you before now."

"Oh, well Poppy is a house-elf, Young Master. We is very common in the wizarding world." Poppy smiled brightly at him, laying a plate piled with eggs, bacon, 2 biscuits, a sliced apple and a small container of jam in front of him. "Here you is, Young Master. Please eat as much as you like!" Mumbling a thank-you, Harry dug into his breakfast with a vigor that put a very smug yet pleased smile upon the house elf's face as she gave her mistress a pointed stare.

Jo watched him from the corner of her eyes, paper still in front of her face as she pretended to read. Harry about choked as he absolutely inhaled the food. Frowning into her coffee, she and Poppy shared a concerned look across the counter. He really is much too thin, they both thought.

"Did the Young Master sleep well?," Poppy squeaked, snapping her fingers so a broom and rag would begin cleaning the kitchen. Harry paused, watching the active magic with wonder. "That's amazing!" Bits of eggs fell from his mouth causing Poppy to cluck at him.

"Manners, Young Master!"

His eyes widened as he shut his mouth with an audible click and finished chewing. After swallowing, he ducked his head and ruffled that untamable mop on his head. "Sorry, ma'am." Now it was Poppy's turn for her eyes to widen in surprise. She turned to Jo, seeing her Mistress smiling dryly at the interaction. "See, told you the kid has manners," Jo said, spitting her own biscuit crumbs. Poppy just threw her little hands into the air before turning away from the two.

Jo openly laughed at the display, nudging Harry who chuckled softly as well. Winking at the kid, she leaned in as if to share a secret. "Keep acting like that, and you'll have poor Poppy wrapped around those little fingers." Poppy's ears twitched, obviously hearing her poor excuse for whispering. Harry looked confused but still smiled when the older woman merely winked at him before stealing a piece of his bacon.

"MISTRESS! That is not yours!" The house elf looked beside herself as she threw her little hands in the air. Harry could only laugh and watch in open curiosity and amusement as the woman was scolded by the small creature, who's glare would put Aunt Petunia's to shame. Jo just laughed along, her eyes crinkling deeply. They shared another smile as the she-elf ranted about unladylike behavior and proper table etiquette. Jo held a finger to her smirking lips before reaching over and stealing another piece of bacon.

"MISTRESS!"

* * *

After breakfast, Jo began a leisurely tour of the house. Well, some of the house. It was too large to see in one day, plus she really wasn't positive what might be inhabiting some of the untouched floors. Harry of course was bubbling with questions.

"Why are there plants everywhere?"

Because this house is fucking weird.

"Why is it raining outside that window, but not this one?"

Because this house is fucking weird.

"How is it so big?"

Well, magic, but also, _because this house is fucking weird._

They made their way to the fourth floor, which consisted of mainly libraries, studies and large windows. Harry's attention quickly dwindled on the stuffy floor, so they continued up to the fourth. Here his childlike wonder was quickly re-ignited at the desert terrain with a ceiling charmed to reflect the sky.

"What is this place?" Harry stared at the large rock formations before his attention fell on the racks full of very sharp weapons. Jo shrugged, smacking his hands away from a particularly violent looking spear. "Every head of the house creates a floor. This, obviously, was one of the first ones. Of course, with how old this family is, some floors have been 're-decorated'. Magic isn't infinite, it can only stretch and provide so much in one place." She settled on letting him play with a pair of nunchucks.

"I believe it was my great-great-great-ridiculous amount of times great-grandmother who instituted this floor. She was very pro-weapon, as you can see," she smirked, pulling a worn javelin from the wall. "She had been bested once in a wizard's duel by her opponent stabbing her, so well, she had to master all of the weapons."

Harry flipped the nunchucks around, smacking himself once in the head. She tried not to laugh as he quickly put them away again. "What's a wizard's duel?" He pouted when she slapped his hands away from a sword, but followed her without a fight as they started across the desert floor.

"It's a magical fight, where both parties agree to a respectful performance using only magic to try and beat one another."

"So her opponent cheated?" He sounded idignant, and she knew her great-however many-grandmother's portrait would love him. "Azaela believes so, yes. He did conjure the blade, though, so," she shrugged, pushing through more vines as they started up to the fifth floor. "It was a loophole of course."

They made it through the fifth, a floor completely dedicated to magical plants. Harry enjoyed it up until a fairly active devil's snare tried to snatch him around the ankle. Next, the sixth, a floor composed of 'The finest arts one can buy' Jo had informed him with an unimpressed voice and bored face. Quite possibly her least favorite floor, and Harry had to agree when a statue began scolding him for staring too long at another painting. They quickly booked it to the seventh, which was so far Harry's favorite.

"Welcome to the quidditch floor," Jo announced, throwing her arms wide. "The only sport that the whole magical world participates in." A huge oval shaped field stretched out before their eyes. Three tall, tall rings towered above them with a matching trio on the opposite side. There were two stands on each side, the seats set high above their heads with blue and grey flags hanging down the sides. A scoreboard was fastened to the back of each stand, displaying a spot for Home and Visitor. "Now, I know you don't know what quidditch is, and I'm not going to try and explain it today. All you need to know is that it is spectacularly fun, and you'll probably love it."

Harry nodded along, staring in wonder at it all. "And all wizards can play?" He didn't notice as Jo stroked a finger gently down the handle of a sleek yet well-used broom hung on the wall. "You bet, kid. I'll teach you sometime, gotta learn how to fly first o'course, but-"

"Fly?!" He turned around, excitedly running back towards her. Noticing the brooms for the first time, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Do witches really ride brooms?"

"Ah-ah, and wizards. Flying is an all-inclusive exercise." She trailed down the brooms, until she found a smaller, less volatile trainer. In fact, the training broom she had learned on once upon a time. "Here," she tossed him the broom. "We'll have a first flying lesson now." Excited all over again, Harry practically bounced behind her. Turning once they reached the center of the pitch, she set her own broom on the ground, instructing Harry to do the same.

"Now, the first lesson with flying is that you need conviction-"

"What's conviction?"

"You have to want it, to be very firm in your thoughts on what exactly should happen. Watch." She raised her hand over the broom, gave a little cough for exaggeration, then commanded "Up." The sleek Silver Arrow flew into her hand, her fingers curled around the handle into well worn grooves. Harry still looked confused, amazed of course by the magic, but very much confused. "Okay, so what did I do?"

Harry didn't answer right away, looking between her, the broom, and the ground. He really wasn't used to being asked questions. In school, his teachers usually left him alone, wary of the strange things that have happened. His Aunt and Uncle had never asked him questions either, or if they had, they usually shouted the answer at him before he had even finished processing. He patted his hair some, trying to find the correct answer in his brain that knew nothing of magic. "Y-you told it up."

Jo nodded, smiling slightly. "And?"

Harry gave her a pained expression, obviously feeling tortured and uncomfortable. "It went up," he supplied feebly, positive he was wrong. His Uncle and Dudley always did tell him he was slow and stupid.

"Exactly. Got it in one, kid."

He looked up in surprise, while something deep inside him sparked with interest at being _right._ "Like I said," Jo continued patiently, "you need conviction. I wanted the broom off the ground and in my hand, that's what happened. I didn't waste time thinking, well shit, what if it doesn't move? What if this or that. Straight and to the point, at all times." She swung one leg over the broom, settling herself with her knees slightly bent. "Now I want to go up, so-" she pushed off the ground, and floated about five feet from the ground. "I go up."

"Wow," Harry breathed, a strong desire to be in the air stirring in his gut. Jo landed on her toes, dismounting the broom before giving him a nod. "Alright, kid. Give it a try." Harry nodded enthusiastically, and stuck his hand out just like Jo had done.

"UP!"

They both watched as the broom wobbled a bit, lifted in the air about a foot before dropping unceremoniously back to the ground. Harry flushed in embarrassment. He had been so sure, all he thought about was wanting to fly. His shoulders rose around his ears as Jo let out a soft chuckle. "It's alright, I don't think I've ever seen a single person get it on their first go." He peeked up at her from beneath his bangs. "Go ahead, give it another try. This time, try thinking only about the broom leaving the ground and hitting your hand."

Nodding jerkily, Harry stuck his hand back out. "U-up!" The broom barely wobbled, it didn't even leave the ground this time. Honestly, Jo sometimes forgot he was only eight years old, but when she saw tears gather in his eyes, how could she ever forget he was so young? Sighing to herself, she reached out to give his hair a little ruffle as he rubbed at his eyes hastily. "Hey, hey, it's alright. No need for tears, kid."

Harry knew he was being a baby, but really, he just wanted to do it! The first magical thing Jo tries to teach him, and he failed. Maybe she was wrong, maybe he wasn't actually a wizard. Maybe all these weird things that have happened haven't been magic at all, but just unexplainable non-magical weird things.

He froze when he felt her arms wrap loosely around him, and his face buried into her stomach. His own arms wrapped around her naturally, as if they had hugged like this thousands of times before. A warmth spread through him from the contact, a comfort he had never experienced before last night, and his tears instantly dried as he sniffled just a little. "Am I bad at magic?"

He felt Jo's stomach convulse with quiet laughter. "No, you're just eight, Harry." She pulled back a little to stare him in the eye. "Our kind don't start learning magic until eleven. The fact that you even made the broom move probably already puts you above par for most magically raised children. Get those thoughts outta your head, kid. We'll keep practicing, and by the time you get to Hogwarts, you'll be teaching everyone else how to fly." Jo felt monumentally less pathetically sappy when he rewarded her with a brilliant smile and an ecstatic 'Really?!'.

"Alright, so this time, I want you to relax…"

* * *

Poppy found the two some hours later in the same place. Jo was relaxing in the stands, a bottle of beer in hand and a small smile on her lips as she watched Harry fly slow and unsteady laps about three feet off the ground around the pitch. The she-elf stood in the doorway, a pleased smile tugging at her lips at the content and _familial_ scene. One part of her truly didn't want to interrupt, but a louder piece of her insisted that they needed supper. They look absolutely famished, Poppy thought as she corralled them back to the kitchen for dinner.

"Young Master was a natural on the broom!," she praised, ladling potatoes onto both of their plates. Her Mistress winked at the boy as he blushed and ducked his head. "Thanks, ma'am," he smiled up at her from beneath his hair. Poppy smiled brightly in return, placing a dinner roll and glass of milk in front of him. He thanked her again as she settled herself between him and her Mistress. The tree ate a quiet meal, staring out the window as the sun set over a marshland, where long legged white birds with black faces stood around, trumpeting to one another.

The elf watched from the corner of her eye as her Mistress rubbed her chest, right over her heart, in obvious discomfort. There was a tremble in her hand that held her mug of coffee. Brown droplets splashed on the bar top. She set it down with a loud clack before quickly standing in a jerky stumble. "I-I'll be back. I-" She didn't finish though, only rushed from the kitchen.

Poppy's ears slumped down, her disappointment evident in those large grey eyes. She allowed herself a sigh before perking back up and turning back to the Young Master. He was staring at the still swinging vines in confusion. "Is Miss Jo sick, Ma'am?" He turned his bright green eyes on her, and she could see the worry and care he felt for her Mistress so clearly it nearly broke her little heart. She reached over and gave his hand a pat.

"My Mistress is…." Poppy trailed off, staring at the birds through the window as they settled in for the night. Her Mistress was very sick. She was sick with grief, despair, and self-loathing. She couldn't say that to the Young Master, though. "My Mistress is broken, Young Master." She felt his little fingers grip her own, obviously in need of comfort that she was very willing to give. They sat in silence, dinner forgotten as the moon began to shine through the clouds outside.

"You can call me Harry, ma'am."

"And you's can call me Poppy, Young Harry."

* * *

Jo gasped as the whiskey burned her throat, liquid fire bubbling as it hit her stomach and warmed the ice from her chest. Coughing and sputtering, she leaned pathetically over the sink in the muggle downstairs, her hide-away from the memories. Perhaps that was why her father loved being down her. Maybe the upstairs, the damn weird house, choked him and constricted him until he had to escape too. If so, then her mother was right all those years ago when she accused her of being just like him.

She spit into the sink, her breathing finally stabilizing as she felt the burn simmer inside. The ice in her chest had thawed, the darkness inside pushed back down into the depths it had clawed and scraped its way from. Inhaling, deeply, she held it in until she heard the tell-tale signs of a house elf apparating into the den. She didn't acknowledge the she-elf when the door to the kitchen creaked open slowly, nor when she pried the bottle from her feeble fingers.

"My Mistress, Young Harry is worried about you. Shouldn't we put him to bed? It's late." Jo nodded, she didn't want to let the warmth inside her escape just yet by opening her mouth. "Young Harry is waiting in the kitchen, him's apparently has a love for Treacle Tart." Subconsciously, she tucked that information away for later. Her brain always seemed to remember things about Harry without her trying.

Harry. How could she look him in the eye after that? Such a pathetic show it must have been. Poor kid deserved better than her.

Poor her didn't deserve him.

She promised him, though. She _promised_ she would fix herself.

Waving Poppy's fretful hands away, Jo straightened with another deep inhale and gave herself a little shake. She exhaled slowly through her mouth, letting the warmth escape and leaving her insides chilled. "Okay, time for the last surprise of the day." She marched out of the kitchen, she could wallow in her pathetic weakness later. Right now was Harry's time.

Poppy waited until she heard her Mistress climbing the stairs before turning and promptly dumping the bottle of firewhiskey down the sink drain with a baleful glare at the liquid as it spiraled away.

Jo had reappeared right after he had finished his dessert, and was starting to question how to do the dishes. The sponge and towel had repeatedly floated out of his reach, leaving him jumping like a kitten after a feather when he heard her distinctive snort of laughter. She had just rolled her eyes with a smile and nodded him out of the kitchen. Seemingly back to normal. Something squirmed in his belly at the sight. Something wasn't right.

He looked at her from beneath his hair as they trekked to the third floor, the one Jo had refused to stop at during their tour. She was smiling again, just a quirk of her lips, but she was pale. And her hands were shaking a little. And her eyes weren't crinkling, they were too wide. Like the night he had realized Jo was scared.

Finally, they stopped in front of a room with a large, gnarled door frame that looked like it was made out of roots. The wood kept going, crawling and looping along the walls and floor from door frame to door frame. There were of course vines, but these ones had flowers of deep reds and oranges. Jo coughed, awkwardly pointing at the plants. "You said your favorite color was red, so I figured this would be good?"

He looked at her, obviously lost. She shuffled slightly, and he realized with shock that Jo was nervous. She obviously wanted him to like this 'door' for a certain reason. "U-um yeah, I like red. They're nice?"

Sighing, Jo pulled the vines back. "Well then, this is your room…if you like it…I mean, we can always change the colors or furniture." Harry went deaf to her ramblings after her announcing that he apparently has a room. He let his eyes roam over the dark brown furniture, the pillow-topped bench fit snuggly against the window, and finally they fell on the largest bed he had ever seen. Deep red and gold colors decorated it, the fluffly comforter and at least ten pillows looked more like clouds than fabric.

Jo watched as he slowly stepped into the room, hesitantly running his fingers along the dresser before turning to face the bed with an indiscernible face. "This is mine?," he asked softly, unwilling to step closer. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, realizing that something was happening here she didn't understand. "Of course. This whole room is yours, and everything in it." This time when tears flooded his eyes, Harry initiated the hug, trying to squeeze all of his thanks into her.

After yet another moment of comfort and warmth that both the adult and child were quickly adapting to, she pointed out the bathroom and pulled a pair of pajamas from the dresser. Poppy had apparently dug out old clothes that would fit him until she could take him shopping. She sat herself on the window bench, staring out at the rain as it fell through the thick trees outside. Harry appeared some time later, setting himself across from her as he stared curiously outside as well.

"It's the rainforest." She rolled her head to give him a smirk as he asked 'how' in that amazed tone of his. "Because this damn house is weird." He giggled, and they watched as the sun set on the other side of the world. Then she herded him to bed, telling him the stories behind the ridiculously large paintings in his room. The tree and water nymphs danced around in their portraits, playing their parts magnificently as she spun the tales from a dusty memory. Soon, he was fast asleep, wrapped up in a ridiculously comfortable blanket on top of a ridiculously large bed, and dreaming of magic and flying magic brooms.

It was the best sleep he had ever had.

* * *

Jo leaned against the kitchen bar, sipping at her spiked coffee. Poppy had sniffed in disdain when she had poured the whiskey from her flask, but she didn't comment. They were discussing, of course, Harry. Poppy was undeniable in love with the small boy. She had always had a soft spot for children. She believed he just needed some love and affection, plus lots of food, and they would have him right as rain in no time.

Jo was a bit more pessimistic.

"I don't think he had a bedroom, Poppy. Hell, I don't think he even had a fucking bed." Poppy had gasped, horrified at the thought. Jo was just angry. She had seen all the signs, ignoring them over and over again since the first day he had appeared. Was she that horrible of a person to neglect the signs until Harry had to scream and cry and _beg_ her for help? She just drank from the flask after that thought.

"I'm going over there. I want to know what kind of people these Dursley's are to treat a child, magical or not, so deplorably." Poppy nodded vigorously before suddenly shaking her head with a shriek of "NO, MISTRESS!" when Jo stumbled up out of her chair. She snapped her fingers, making the chair pick her back up and set her snugly against the bar. "You is in no condition, plus it be late, Mistress."

Jo scoffed, but she didn't argue. The house elf was right, as always. "Fine, but I'm going tomorrow while Harry's at school." Poppy allowed her this before sending her to bed like the adult she was.

Tomorrow, she reminded herself as she settled onto the couch on the muggle floor. Tomorrow she would get answers.

Maybe cast a hex or two for Harry.


	6. Chapter 6 Truth

**Hello, just a little tid-bit. I've actually redone and edited all of the previous chapters. The story was only 6 chapters in, and already felt wrong. If you've been following since the beginning, I would suggest possibly reading the new version, but it's not necessary. It's still the same story, just more organized, and it feels better (at least to me).**

 **As always, I live off of feedback, so feel free to drop a comment or criticism.**

 **Until next time,**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 **Truth**

* * *

 **"The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it."-Flannery O'Connor**

* * *

 **October -1988**

Jo's head fell forward, slipping from her hand for what seemed to be the hundredth time as she sat at the ornate kitchen bar. A steaming cup of coffee sat in front of her as she lazily perused the newspaper. Massaging her forehead, a pitiful whine escaped her as Poppy scolded her from the other side of the kitchen.

"Mistress should know better by now, she goes to bed much too late. If it was up to Poppy, Mistress would be in bed by Eleven O'clock sharp, every night." The little elf expertly flipped an egg in her skillet, not even glancing at the witch as she whined and groaned into her coffee. Jo merely rolled her eyes, years of experience lending her the knowledge to just take the lecture and sip her coffee. However, the creeping thought of it being much too early for this shit had become her mantra through this fairly routine experience.

"However," Poppy peered at her Mistress from the corner of her eye as her head started to droop, again. "It is nice to see Mistress awake before lunch time."

"Poppy," Jo sighed the elf's name into her coffee. Her voice was rough and scratchy, and her head throbbed in time with her pulse. She was miserable enough without the chastising elf squeaking away.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Please stop talking."

"Of course, Mistress."

If Jo saw the amused smile that Poppy didn't even try to conceal, she ignored it in lieu of enjoying her much appreciated silence. She scanned over the paper, eyeing an interesting ad for assistance to a family in need of a gnome catcher. Then she turned to the Obituary section, which thankfully was mostly full of older faces. It was a morbid thing, she supposed, being thankful for the death of the elderly instead of the massive lists of missing young people that had filled these pages less then a decade ago.

An old tension fell from her shoulders as she read over the few names. One Quella Quirrell had died peacefully over night, at an eyebrow raising age of two hundred and four. The name Quirrell rang a bell somewhere through the fog in her brain. The image of a young gawky boy in a Ravenclaw tie appeared in her mind's eye. What was that boy's name? He had been only a year or so behind her, a book always on hand and a head full of interestingly useless facts.

Her thoughts we cut short by Poppy's squeal of "Good morning, Young Harry!". The boy in question smiled brightly at the elf, thanking her as she set a plate of breakfast before him. Jo gave him a salute of welcome with her mug before disappearing behind the newspaper again. She watched, though, as he dug into his eggs and ham, chattering with Poppy between bites. He seemed much peppier then usual. Sleeping in a real bed probably helped, she thought bitterly.

She awoke this morning with the fire of anger still hot in her veins. Plans of curses and hexes had to be forcibly pushed from her mind as she watched him smile and giggle, much happier then she had ever seen him. Guilt stabbed her heart as she thought, again, about her neglected thoughts of his well-being. How could she not have noticed? Not asked? All the signs of abuse, of cruel and unfair treatment were sat in front of her for weeks, and she _ignored_ them all. She wasn't positive who her anger was directed at anymore. Maybe she should hex herself after the muggles.

"Are we going to fly again today?" Harry dragged her from her thoughts, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. She tried to return the gesture, but just grimaced as her head pulsed again. He watched as she rubbed her forehead, tilting her head back with a sigh. Obviously, she was suffering another morning headache.

With a groan, she settled her chin in her hand and squinted at him, managing a small smile. "No, you have school today. It's Monday, you know." Harry's thoughts instantly went to the incomplete maths and english homework stuffed in the book under his cot in the closet. He really did not want to retrieve it from the Dursley's. Jo, no matter how much she denied the capability to do so, seemed to read his mind. "I'll be taking you. Need to… _explain_ your new living arrangements. I'll get your things later. You just worry about making up any work from the weekend." Harry nodded quietly, pretending he couldn't see as she tipped her pocket flask into the coffee muh hidden behind the newspaper.

"Poppy has already laid out clothes for Young Harry. She found much better fitting clothings and cleaned them."Harry couldn't help but smile at the house elf, she was always so happy. He let himself be shooed from the kitchen to get ready, and agreed to meet Jo in the Great Hall.

Once he was ready, he found himself waiting in the Great Hall for Jo. His eyes swept over the tall trees, amazed all over again by their sheer size. Just as he stepped closer to a tall white tree, sure he could see _something_ carved into the bark, Jo suddenly appeared at the entrance, cursing under her breath. He had to double take, realizing he had never seen her look so presentable before. Her ash colored hair had been brushed and thrown into a neat ponytail, and she was wearing a plain _clean_ shirt and slacks with a brown leather jacket. She grumbled, trying to shove her foot into a boot before straightening with a frown. "Here," Harry hastily caught the bundle of fabric she tossed at him. "It's cold out."

Throwing on the denim jacket, it smelled like Jo yet fit perfectly, he quickly followed her back down the stairs to the muggle entrance. It was overcast and chilly outside, and he found himself walking closer to her. She quirked her lips at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they set off for the school. Subconsciously, he snuggled in closer, sucking in her warmth and scent.

Neither took notice of the crazy cat lady Figg, gaping at them from her doorway and wrapped in her bathrobe, as she dropped the newspaper and disappeared back inside.

* * *

Petunia Dursley settled herself at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in hand as she opened her newest edition of Country Life. With Dudley at school and Vernon at work, she loved stealing these private moments to sigh over the photographs of gardens and gorgeous scenery. It was deserved, after all. She had spent all morning _scrubbing_ the house from top to bottom.

Although, even as she tried to relax, there was still a tingle in her spine that kept her from truly enjoying her 'me time'.

Everything still felt **tainted**.

It had always felt that way, the lingering of wrong-ness. Anytime her sister had used m- _ **that**_ , it always left Petunia feeling dirty. Her skin would itch for days and her throat felt perpetually coated with dust. Ever since the boy had started showing the signs, she couldn't touch anything in her house without needing to **scrub** her hands raw afterwards. And after that Snape had come in her home, waving that silly stick, the very air had felt **dirty**.

Huffing violently, she shook the thoughts away, trying to focus on the beautiful picture of a rose trellis. She would use that new power cleaner later, perhaps that would do the trick. Her mind finally settled with the thought. Taking a long sip of tea, she turned the page and began to read about the best procedures for maximum rose growth and health. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought how much more lush her own roses seemed compared to the photographs.

 **TAP-TAP**

Jumping, Petunia looked up in alarm as the quiet knock had come from her kitchen door. No one ever knocked on that door. She rolled her eyes and scowled, realizing it must be the boy finally returning home. Sniffing, she returned to reading the article. It would do him well to wait.

 **BANG**

 **BANG**

 **BANG**

"How dare-!" Snarling slightly, she pushed herself up from the table and stalked towards the door. That boy was playing a stupid game if he thought he could pound her door like that. Yanking the door open, she didn't even look at the miscreant, merely closed her eyes and turned her head away. "About time you returned, get in here before the neighbors start wondering about that racket! I don't know who you think you are, banging on my door like that! You had best believe I'll be telling Vernon about this."

Without sparing him a glance, she marched back across the kitchen and returned to her magazine. When she didn't hear the door close or his usual 'Sorry, Aunt Petunia', she snapped her head up with a vicious glare. " **Close the door-** "

The tall woman standing in the doorway froze Petunia to the chair with a glacial stare as she crossed the threshold and snapped the door shut behind her. "Petunia Dursley, I presume."

Jo raised an eyebrow when the woman didn't respond. Inhaling deeply, she fully entered the kitchen, letting her eyes pass over the stereotypical muggle kitchen with an indifferent expression. Settling herself across from the scrawny woman, she tapped her fingers against the tabletop still waiting for her to do literally anything. The blonde woman finally regained her senses, plastering on a wary but polite smile. "Yes, I'm Petunia Dursley. I apologize for my lack of manners, I'm not quite used to people knocking at my garden door."

Jo leaned back, quirking an eyebrow again. "You seemed quite sure of who was on the other side of it. I'm slightly curious as to who you thought I was, they sure seemed to be on your list." Petunia's face instantly drained of all color as she struggled to keep a smile on her face.

"You still haven't introduced yourself or informed me about your visit, Miss…?" Petunia asked instead of answering. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising, and her gut clenched in discomfort. Something about the strange and intimidating woman felt very **wrong.**

"Delacroix, Josephine Delacroix. I'm actually your neighbor, right on the other side of your garden fence." She couldn't help but smirk slightly, amused as Petunia tried to school the look of disgust twisting at her face. "As for my reason to popping by, perhaps it would be best to talk over tea."

"O-oh, well I'm actually-"

"Oh no no, I've got it," Jo said, producing her wand and levitating the kettle and a tea cup across the kitchen. Meanwhile, Petunia had released an earsplitting shriek, leaping from her chair as the magic buzzed through the air. She watched as the muggle took deep ragged breaths, her eyes frantically moving between the wand, her floating tea set, and the door. A dark part of her took sick enjoyment out of the woman's panic.

"You're a-a-"

"Mm, a witch, but it seems you've already been introduced to our people." Jo poured three generous scoops of sugar into her tea, calmly taking a sip as Petunia tried to collect herself. "This will be much easier if you would take a seat." The blonde woman glared venomously at her, but sat rigidly in the chair once again. All pretenses of politeness seeped out of the room as they regarded one another coldly. "Much better. Now, I would very much appreciate us being completely honest with each other during our tea time. Does that sound like something you can do, Petunia?"

Petunia's eyes fell from Jo's own blue down to the seemingly simple piece of wood peeking from her sleeve. She knew it, she bloody well knew letting that little freak stay here would come to this. Oh, she knew her sister had been caught in whatever mayhem her world had created. Bad men, murderous men that hated people just like her, a normal and perfectly ordinary person. Why did they have to bring that damned child here?

Her lips quivered slightly, eyes moving from the wand to the crystalline orbs of the newest threat upon her normalcy. "He isn't here."

"Well," Jo sighed, taking another sip of her tea, "no shit, Petunia. I know where he is, I'm not here for that. I am here to sever whatever ties he had with you lot and settle any of the finer details." Jo took a small flask from her coat, dumping a generous amount into her cup before indulging in a rather long sip of the tea.

"P-pardon?" Petunia, for the first time during this entire encounter, reached for her own tea quite shakily. Jo offered her flask, shrugging when Petunia stared at it balefully. "I'm pretty sure you understood everything that just spewed out of my mouth."

"So he's not coming back?"

"Doesn't seem to be at the top of his to-do list, no."

"What about the other fr-" Petunia inhaled sharply to stop herself. Best she not look a gift horse in the mouth. "Other magicals? They won't bother us anymore?"

Jo raised her eyebrow at that and frowned. Who had been visiting the Dursleys? "I wouldn't know, I've never noticed other magicals making house calls. Who has been in contact with you?"

The blond woman's nose scrunched up in distaste and loathing at the thought of that greasy man even stepping foot in her house. She can still smell that stench that had always clung to him as if it had seeped into the walls, and trust Petunia Dursley had done everything within her power to rid them of it. "That greasy little man Lily used to be friends with, Snape."

"As in Severus Snape?" Jo's frown deepened. Snape had never been a pleasant person, whether in childhood or adulthood. Plus, a fucking _death eater_. Her heart sped up, a stab of panic in her chest at the thought of him anywhere near Harry. "What in the hell was he here for?" Petunia glared at her wall, muttering tersely that it had been about 'The boy'. However, Jo froze mid-reply as the whole of Petunia Dursley's sentence was completely absorbed by her brain. "Did you just say Lily? As in Lily Potter?"

"Evans." Jo's mouth snapped shut, her mind already connecting pieces she didn't know existed until this very moment. Petunia glared steadily across the lip of her cup. "Her maiden name was Evans, and she was my sister."

Honestly, looking back at that moment, Jo could only describe what had happened to her as a complete brain shutdown. She stared blankly across the room, barely registering Petunia's presence any longer as only one thought overtook her mind. Harry fucking Potter was living in her home. How in the fuck was Harry Potter, Savior of the damn wizarding world and child of James and Lily fucking Potter, in her home?

"Oh yes, she ran off and married that James Potter. I'll never understand why she decided to stay in that world and marry one of them? Have one of their babies? She could have just pretended to be normal," Petunia suddenly cut off, her snide voice turning shrill as words began tumbling from her mouth unbidden. "A-and guess what? She wouldn't be bloody six feet under the ground. Then her child wouldn't have been left **here** , and you people would have never bothered my family!" Petunia didn't seem to realize her mistake, never noticed the change of the atmosphere or the sudden charge in the air. She just sighed with relief at _finally_ saying these thoughts that had eaten away at her for nearly eight years.

"I feel, very fucking strongly, that you need to take those words back." Jo hadn't changed her position, leaning calmly back in the chair with her cup poised for another sip. Only the steel in her voice and sharpening of her eyes gave way to the anger reignited within. She had half a mind to seriously curse the woman right now. Damn the consequences.

"I most certainly will not, and please watch your langua-" Petunia shrieked in terror as Jo's tea cup smashed against the wall beside her head. She reared back, her wide eyes staring fearfully at the suddenly angry woman across from her.

"I don't give a flying fuck about your feelings on _language!,_ " Jo snarled, leaping up to glare down at the woman across the table. "Lily and James Potter were fucking heroes, and you," her voice remained surprisingly steady as she stepped up onto the table, smashing the other tea cup beneath her boot earning her another small shriek. "You horrible excuse of a human being have no fucking idea what they did, what they suffered **FOR ALL OF YOU**!" The entire house shook at the force of her yell, whether by magic or the literal timbre of it, Petunia didn't know. "Their deaths, their sacrifice was the only reason you and your ilk aren't suffering under the feet of a psychotic madman, or better yet, as dead as the sister you mock."

Jo jumped down from the table, standing unbearably close to the trembling woman beneath her. "Alright, my patience is done, fucking out the window Petunia. So how about you make this easy for me. I need all the paperwork and possessions that belong to or are associated with Harry Potter." She stepped back just enough to let Petunia scramble out of her chair. "Oh, and anything that you have in your possession associated with Lily Potter." Petunia squeaked, scrambling out of the kitchen on shaking legs.

Sighing deeply, Jo sunk against the wall feeling a headache knocking at her eyeballs. "Fucking Harry Potter," she slipped her flask from her pocket, muttering his name a few more times before the liquid finally slid down her throat. She stared at the still picture of a fairly rotund woman with hilariously large blonde hair and a cat sat upon her lap. She exhaled violently through her nose, the sudden urge to laugh suddenly bubbling in her chest. Of course, somehow this just seemed to be her luck. Her life really was some higher deity's idea of a sick joke, she thought as she took another _long_ pull from the flask. "Fucking Harry Potter."

She let her head smack against the wall with a bit more force then necessary, trying in vain to knock the hysteria out. It still bubbled ferociously beneath her skin, her heart beating faster and faster as she listened to Petunia stumble around upstairs. She stared deeply into the picture cat's large eyes, noting they were almost the exact same shade of green as Harry's. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" The cat didn't have an answer, so she just drank. That seemed to be the only solution she could rely on in this world.

* * *

Jo stared as Petunia dropped the final box at her feet. The only physical evidence that Harry Potter even existed was packed inside of three pitifully small cardboard boxes. The ash haired witch took another long drink from her flask. "That's really everything?," she asked quietly, a sadness echoing within her chest. "You've had him for eight years, and it all fits into these?" She nudged the closest box with the toe of her boot, squaring Petunia with a withering look.

Petunia, refusing to be cowed, stared down her nose as best as she could at the taller woman. "His necessities were met." The witch just snorted, returning her gaze to the boxes before quickly waving her wand to shrink and stick them in her pocket. "Is that all, then? We'll not be seeing you or the boy-"

"For Merlin's-sake, woman. His name is Harry, Petunia." This time, Petunia at least had the decency to drop her gaze from the scathing look. "He's just a child, you do realize that, right? He's an innocent child that didn't ask for you anymore then you had him. He wasn't Lily, James, or even the magical community. He was a baby who just needed some damn love and care. What in the hell, - **fucking look at me** -", Petunia nearly looked away again at the pure intensity and _hatred_ within the ice of her eyes, "-what in the hell is wrong with you?" Jo's sentence ended quietly, but the intensity in her eyes never wavered. "How can you live with yourself for treating him so terribly?"

Jo really didn't expect an answer, nor did she truly expect any trace of remorse either. Petunia Dursley didn't quite seem the type. True to form, Petunia gave neither, and a stony silence settled on the two women.

Finally, Petunia returned her eyes back to her 'guest' with a sniff, willing her to just bloody leave already. Jo gave the house one last look, her nose wrinkling slightly at the unnerving cleanliness of it all. "Well then, this would be goodbye, Petunia. The obliviators will be around shortly after the paperwork is filed. You and your family won't remember anything of Harry Potter or myself." She turned on her heel and headed for the door.

If anyone were to ever ask why she had said the words that had tumbled from her mouth, Petunia Dursley would never be able to give a rational answer. The only thing passing through her mind as the door began to close was Lily. Her back barely visible through the crack, Petunia grabbed the handle to stop her.

"You'll take proper care of him." It had come out as a command, but both women heard it as a plea. The care I could never give him, she thought feeling that the witch understood. Her crystalline eyes softened and crinkled just slightly around the edges when she turned her head, nodding only once before pulling the door shut with a snap of finality.

Perhaps, Petunia thought to herself as she took to the stairs on unsteady legs, she wasn't a good person. She had treated her only sister's son beyond terribly, she knew this in her heart. Her mind would rationalize her actions with every memory of cruelty, but beneath all of the twists and turns of excuses she could create, she knew her actions were not that of a good person. However, for the first time in seven years, her home finally felt like her own again.

Yes, perhaps Petunia is a disgustingly bad person for how she treated the boy, but she knew it was better this way. Better for her own family to be rid of the taint magic once and for all, of the bitter ash it left in her mouth at the mere mention of it. And if everything worked out, perhaps the boy could find what she could never give him with that horribly intimidating witch.

* * *

Jo paced circles around the den, perhaps a little unsteadily as well (but that _really_ wasn't her main concern at the moment). Harry fucking Potter was now her ward, the child that curled himself within her heart by sneaking into her house and stealing cookies. The child that weird things happened around that didn't know about magic. How could the 'Savior' not know about magic?

Hell, how the fuck does she even tell him about his own tragic history that was drenched in the magic he found so wonderful?

Oh Morgana's left tit, should she even be the one to tell him? Fuck no, she barely knew his parents beyond being friends-of-a-friend. She and his father had quite a few spats on many occasions, as a matter of fact. Of course, they fought a war together, they hand bonded after school, but _still._ There was only one person left who could tell Harry properly about his own past, his parents and their legacy. And fuck her sideways, he hadn't been seen or heard of since the day Sirius Black had been dragged off to Azkaban.

"Fuck me." The words were a breath, a mantra she had undertaken long before today. Maybe, just this once, they would work like a prayer.

Jo stopped and stared warily at the door, studying the flaking paint and dirty brass. He would be home any minute now. Tapping her foot, she fidgeted slightly as her mind fought itself on what in the fuck she should do. Harry needed to know. He needed to know everything and anything she could remember about his parents. He needed to know that they had loved him so very much. That she knew for certain.

'And,' she thought, the figurative wand illuminating above her head, 'I have the proof.' She hesitated, though, realizing that everything she needed was stored in her bedroom. Her _real_ bedroom upstairs. The bedroom she hadn't stepped foot in for nearly a decade. She started pacing again, fidgeting and muttering under her breath. She would just have to do it, there was no way around it. Harry deserved it.

Jo stuttered to a halt, staring wide-eyed as the front door creaked open. Harry had a bright smile on his face, eyes bright when he saw her waiting for him. Fuck it all if those weren't Lily Potter's eyes shining at her from James Potter's face. She couldn't help feeling just a tad slow for not seeing the resemblance long before now, actually.

"Harry," Jo breathed his name, her own smile pulling at her lips and her eyes crinkling. "I've got a surprise for you."


	7. Chapter 7 Grief

**Chapter 7**

 **Grief**

* * *

 **"But pain is like water. It finds a way to push through any seal. There's not way to stop it. Sometimes you have to let yourself sink inside of it before you can learn how to swim to the surface." -Katie Kacvinsky**

* * *

Jo frowned deeply, tapping her fingers in an uneven rhythm against her thigh as she surveyed the… _room_? Well, what she could see of it, at least. Apparently, in her absence, the damn house had decided to overtake her old bedroom with untamed plant life. Trees, shrubs, and flowers littered nearly every space available. The walls and her dressers covered in climbing vines and weeds. Her bed seemed to be the only untouched space, and even that was covered in squirming furry bodies. Snorting, she turned a glare on the ceiling. "Is this punishment, then? Claiming my _bedroom_? You've turned petty in your old age."

Of course, the house didn't respond, but she swore she could feel its amusement seeping out of the walls. Sighing deeply, she finally stepped into the room, causing six canine heads to lift and focus on her. Instantly, they began whining and wiggling with earnest as she jumped over a particularly large root and started closing the distance. A small smile quirked at her lips as she squatted, opening her arms in welcome. A choked laugh escaped her as she was instantly plowed over and covered with wet slobbery tongues and cold noses. She had never met a single one of the mutts before now, but wasn't this just her life? Strays had always found her.

"A'right, enough, enough. Let me up," she sputtered, finally lifting herself back up. The small pack of dogs, big and small, wiggled and jumped around her as she stood. "Yes yes, it's wonderful to meet you all, but I do have things to do. Y'know, important people things. Off ya go, you little menaces." With minor yipping and jumping, they dispersed, finding new things of interest to smell and gnaw on. Still faintly smiling, she turned her attention to where her closet was supposed to be, but it had been overgrown with vines and weeds, sealing it shut.

Releasing the black wand, she began clearing away the thick foliage until the door was finally visible. It creaked open, shaking the rust from its hinges, and two large boxes came floating out. Setting them near her feet, she crouched down and began rifling through them both. Many photographs began to pile up near her feet, all of them featuring at least a beautiful redheaded woman or a hazel eyed man with unruly dark hair. A few featured both the man and woman, accompanied by a small smiling baby.

* * *

Harry tried not to let his emotions run, but was really having a go of trying to remain calm. He had _never_ seen Jo so excited before. Of course, he knew Jo would never hurt him, wasn't planning something that he would hate, but….

Anytime his Uncle or Dudley had been that excited, it usually ended terribly for him. For some reason, his family's good moods always resulted in bad days for Harry. His stomach was clenching, his palms clammy, even as he reasoned with himself that Jo was _not_ them.

He let Poppy drag him to the kitchen, trying to focus as she spoke to him, but he kept replaying Jo's antsy and unusual behavior.

" _Harry," Jo breathed his name, her own smile pulling at her lips. "I've got a surprise for you."_

 _Now, Harry had never been given a surprise that hadn't ended up with him weeding the flower beds or scrubbing the toilets. Or trapped in his cupboard with new scrapes or bruises, keeping completely silent as his family's laughter and love for one another seeped through the thin walls. The happiness bubbling underneath his skin began to simmer at the words, his smile fading until it was basically a grimace. "A surprise?"_

 _Jo didn't seem to register the change, caught up in her own mind's fluttering through memories as the beginning of her plan began to take root. "Yep, you bet. Gotta get some stuff, though. It's gonna take me a few, maybe an hour…no definitely an hour, tops." She was talking quickly, an old habit that hadn't been heard in many years. "Poppy, why don't you and Harry get the other stuff ready? Y'know, snacks and stuff? Can't have.…" She trailed off, shooing away something with her hand._

 _Poppy, who had been silently observing, started nodding a long. "What would you like us to prepare, Mistress?"_

 _Jo was already walking off though, ruffling Harry's hair with a wide smirk as she passed. "Whatever the kid wants of course. You've got full pick tonight, yeah?" Harry tried to smile back, nodding as he watched her basically trot away._

"Mistress has not been so excited in such a long time, it warms Poppy's heart."

He remained silent, letting his eyes wonder over the hallways and foliage thriving around them. Poppy continued to chatter, though. Talking about how Jo used to speak so fast as a child, her mother would put slow motion hexes on her just so they could understand what she was saying. And how Jo would show up to dinner covered in sand or dirt or dripping water from exploring for animals through something called _the world room_. Harry couldn't stop the laughter at hearing she had shown up for dinner once with an octopus stuck to her head. He had a hard time picturing the woman he knew as such an energetic child.

Sitting himself at the kitchen bar as Poppy began preparing food, he found his mind wondering about the child that Jo had been.

"Do all adults stop having fun? Uncle Vernon only thinks drill bits are fun, and Jo…." Well, Jo didn't seem to find anything fun. Poppy understood, though, if the way her ears drooped were any indicator.

Setting a tray of biscuits in the oven, Poppy smiled sadly at the Young Master. "Mistress was not always…" A drunk. "Even as a big one she laughed lots and talked much too fast." Harry looked confused, but the elf knew it wasn't her position to tell the Young Master her Mistress's dark moments. "You's need to ask Mistress, Young Master. It's Mistress's story to tell." Even if her dark moments were just as deeply shared by Poppy.

They lapsed into silence again. Harry stared out the large windows on the far wall, there was a plain covered in tall grass on the other side today. Poppy watched the young boy, levitating trays around her as food began piling on top. "Young Master," he looked at her, his green eyes seemingly dull. He smiled softly, though, so Poppy continued. "Does Mistress scare you?"

Harry recoiled, his eyes wide. "N-no. Jo doesn't scare me, I just…don't understand." Poppy cocked her head, unsure of what exactly he doesn't understand. "Why she's so…nice to me." _Why she's so sad and cranky, tired and sick, suffers headaches and barely smiles, but is still nice to me._

"Young Harry makes Mistress happy. Young Harry became Mistress' friend." Poppy smiled again as if to say it was the simplest thing in the world. Frowning, Harry looked back out the gigantic windows. It didn't seem that simple to him.

"What is Young Master's favorite treats?"

It took a moment for Harry to realize they had changed subjects. "Treacle tart," he mumbled, blushing. He had dug through the bins on more then one occasion just to eat the crumbs of Aunt Petunia's Tuesday Treacle. "Treacle tart be easy. Would Young Master like to mix?" Harry nodded eagerly, running around the bar to stand with the elf as all the ingredients floated in from their shelves and cupboards.

* * *

Jo shook her head, trying very hard not to smile as she shooed the little terrier mix away from the big fluffy cushions she had transfigured. She had cleared away as much of the shrubs and vines that she could, but the house was being _stubborn_. It seemed the trees and small stream in the corner would be staying. Sighing, she levitated a boulder, which had most definitely not been in her room before, into the center of the small sitting area she had created. With a little flick and wave, a spell mumbled under her breath, the large stone turned into a small coffee table, and she called it done.

Just in time, she thought as Poppy's high squeaks carried through the hallway.

"Young Harry is not allergic to animals, is he?" Oh ho, so she had known the mutts were here? They would most certainly be having words about that.

"No?" Harry answered, confused when they stopped in front a very thick wall of vines. He had never seen Jo's room before, but Poppy had said she preferred staying in the muggle house. The walls and floor surrounding them were covered thickly in green and many flowers that bordered on grey and silver.

"For the best, actually. Seeing as _someone_ didn't tell me that I had guests," Jo smirked when he jumped, her head peeking through the wild doorway. "C'mon then," Harry jumped again when she grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle tug. "Welcome to my…bedroom? Well, what's left of it," she shrugged, grimacing as his green eyes blew wide at the amount of trees and vines clinging to her walls.

"It's because Mistress has not accepted title. Poppy told Mistress this. Mistress does not listen well." Poppy nodded sagely to him, passing along words of wisdom learned from years of experience. "Although the puppies are not new." A great dane stood over the elf, planting its freckled head atop her as she patted its head indulgently. "The puppies have always loved Mistress."

He tried to take in the trees, the wide windows with a different terrain through each, the small stream in the corner, and all the dogs! It was crazy. Well, perhaps not considering everything he had seen of the house so far, but still, some things could still be labeled as crazy. Even Jo seemed uncertain of her own bedroom. "Where did the dogs come from? I've never seen them before." A wet nose pressed against his hand, and he looked down to find deep soulful brown eyes staring back. Smiling hesitantly, Harry hadn't the best experience with dogs, he timidly ran the tips of his fingers over the golden head.

"Not a clue," Jo shrugged again, smiling lightly as she scratched behind the ears of a rather muscular canine. "They've always just appeared. I'm surprised, though, considering I haven't been in here for so long. Figured they'd stopped popping up, but apparently I was wrong." She squinted at the house elf, but she was steadfastly ignoring the witch as she placed the levitating trays of treats on the small table.

"Poppy."

"Yes, my Mistress?" Her large grey eyes blinked innocently as she started placing bowls of dog food around the room. In perfect sync, all the dogs abandoned the humans for a designated bowl. As if they had done this many times before. Shaking her head, Jo just huffed and shoved her hands into her pockets. "We'll discuss this later, you little sneak."

Affronted, Poppy sniffed and straightened her dress primly. "Poppy not be a sneak, Mistress has been preoccupied."

Harry watched curiously as Jo and Poppy exchanged a heated stare, conversing silently with only slight changes to their facial expressions.. With a sharp exhale through her nose, Jo looked away first with an almost guilty pout. "Thank you, Poppy."

The little house elf beamed, executing a perfect curtsy before bouncing out of the room. "You is very welcome, my Mistress."

Silence settled around the two, leaving Harry squirming as Jo stared down at him from the corner of her eyes. With a relatively calm sigh, she set a hand against his back and steered him towards the little sitting area she had made. Her heart beat nervously, unsure how the kid would take her 'surprise'.

She flopped into a cushion, gesturing for the kid to take the other. A weight settled across her shoulders, and she looked, not surprised, at the cat which gave a little 'Mrroww'. Turning her eyes back to Harry, she was surprised to find him scrunched up, trying very hard not to touch the dogs settling around him. "You okay there, kid?"

He shrugged, pulling his arms in close as the same lab mix from before settled her head on his lap. She gave him an adoring look, just pleading to be pat as the boy leaned away from her. "Not a fan of dogs?" He mumbled something, still staring at the dog with wide eyes and a paling face. "Oy, leave him be." The pup instantly backed off, her tail between her legs as she laid by his feet with a forlorn face. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing as the surrounding dogs all laid down and let him be.

"M-my Aunt Marge brings her dogs over. They chased me up a tree last time, and…" He pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, showing a small knot of scars on his skinny little bicep where something had clearly bitten him. _Hard_. Jo's eyebrows drew together and her lips thinned. "Hmm."

She didn't push further, though, instead nodding to the trays of treats set across the table. "What'd you choose for us then?" The remaining tension in his shoulders and face began to melt away as he told her all about making treacle tart with Poppy. He nearly slipped up, almost mentioning his bin-diving, but a blush still dusted his cheeks. Once again, she didn't push for information, instead instructed him to eat and tell her about his day.

Jo smiled slightly as he told her about Dudley being disciplined for bullying him. His teacher had realized, with a bit of _prodding_ , that perhaps she should take better control of the classroom and the students within those walls. He told her about how he had answered a maths question correctly on the board, something he was never called on to do before today. Then he described his makeup work, which he had already completed during a quiet time in the library. Apparently, he had taken to spending lunch in there to avoid Dudley and his gang. With a frown, Jo told him he still needed to eat lunch. Harry shrugged. "I wasn't all that hungry."

"Poppy can pack a lunch for you, if you want." She frowned, squinting down at him as he opened his mouth with a look that just screamed he was going to argue. "It's not healthy to skip meals." His mouth snapped shut when she shrugged, "You're choice, though. I think after this week, Dudley won't be causing anymore problems for you." Confused, Harry just nodded, agreeing to eat lunch. They lapsed into silence again. He couldn't describe it, but there was a feeling in the air, that something was going to happen, to _change,_ tonight.

Inhaling deeply, Jo leaned forward with the exhale, giving him a slight smile before she reached forward. He still, subconsciously, flinched backwards as she lifted the long hair over his forehead. Her blue eyes crinkled sadly at the telltale scar, the lightening bolt jagged and red, but obviously old. "I found out something today," she started, softly. "I found out who you are."

He reached up, rubbing the scar with a confused frown. "But you already know who I am. I'm Harry." She smiled sadly, lightly slapping his hand away to flatten the hair back over the scar. "Yes, you are. You're Harry James Potter." Pausing, she reached into the box by her feet, pulling a photograph from the top. "And you are the son of two of the most courageous and _good_ people that I have ever known."

His breath caught at her quiet words. "My parents?" That was all he could squeeze out before his throat constricted. He didn't know anything about his parents, except how they died. Jo flipped the photograph over, handing it to him with the firm gentleness only she possessed. His eyes didn't leave hers, though. An unknown fear had suddenly gripped him. What if his parents were really everything Uncle Vernon said?

"James and Lily Potter."

 _James and Lily Potter._ How had he never known their names before now? Eagerly, his eyes dropped to drink in the sight of his parents. They were waving at him from a couch covered in a truly horrible floral pattern, and there sat atop both of their knees was a very tiny version of himself being forced to wave by his Mum.

 _His Mum_.

She was even more beautiful then he had ever imagined. Harry smiled sadly, but he was so unbelievably happy. Those were his eyes sparkling up at him from beneath his Mum's eyelashes. She had hair the color of a sunset and a feather light dusting of freckles across her nose. Her eyebrows suddenly pulled together as her eyes focused on something off camera before she was laughing. It looked like a full on belly laugh as she threw her head back, her hand cradling his baby self to her stomach to keep him steady.

Harry switched to his father, catching the end of his endearing expression as he watched his Mum laugh. It reset, and all three of them were waving again. James Potter had a confident smile that was bolstered by eyes that seemed full of laughter. Harry could see his face in his Dad, and his unruly hair was obviously passed down from him as well. He suddenly wondered if anyone else in his Dad's family has hair like his?

Jo watched as Harry smiled, his eyes unbelievably happy yet drowning in sadness. His green eyes began to shine with tears as the picture reset over and over again. Finally, the tears slowly fell as he drug his eyes from the picture to her.

"Do you have any more?" Jo just smiled before pushing the box filled with photographs towards him. He dug in like a starved man, but touched each memory with the gentlest of fingers. "When are these from? Are they at school? Did they meet there? When did they get married?"

Jo chuckled quietly at his eagerness. She would be far worse if the situation was reversed. Pulling herself up, to the groans of her comfy canines, she settled herself beside Harry.

"Ah, now that one is from their last day of Fifth year, I believe," she pointed to the picture in his left hand. James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Mary, Marlene, Lily, and Emmeline. "I was asked to take the picture, which is actually how I came to have so many of them. I was technically a year younger, but had an advanced class with them."

"And this one?" Harry held up a photograph of Lily and Jo talking quite seriously at the end of a table. James was seated beside her, apparently telling a joke to Remus and Peter who were snickering behind their hands. "Now that was much later. We were at a meeting." She plucked the photo from his hand, watching as she and Lily traded quiet words. She couldn't remember what had been discussed now, but it looked to have been important at the time. Especially considering this had been taken during a meeting for the Order of the Pheonix. She tucked the photograph beneath her leg as Harry held out another.

"What about this?"

Jo smiled softly, staring as Lily popped a bright red balloon to unveil her quite pregnant stomach. "That would be your baby shower." Smirking, Jo plucked another picture from the box. "It had obviously been Gryffindor theme." James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter all stood drinking butterbeer in front of a long table decked out in red and gold decorations that was groaning under the weight of presents.

She and Harry continued through the pictures, Jo shoving every war affiliated photo into a pile beside her. They continued for over an hour, Harry slowly leaning into her until they were both snuggled closely as they enjoyed the memories. Finally, they reached the bottom of the box where a large picture took up its entirety. Jo reached in, pulling it into the light with a slight tremor in her fingers.

Harry's first thought was that it was a very serious picture. Barely anyone in frame smiled or moved. He instantly spotted his parents, and of course (he felt he knew them now, even if just a little) they were both smiling softly. Jo didn't speak at first, just letting him take in all the faces. Including her own.

He was almost startled when he realized the serious face staring back at him was in fact Jo. Her long ash colored hair was cropped short and uneven. Her eyes, unlike all the other pictures, did not hold the same lightheartedness. They were cold, looking more like sapphires than real irises. She was scowling darkly, a bandage peeking out from her collar and sleeve along her right side. He could see two holsters under her arms where two wands sat, ready to be drawn in the blink of an eye. This was not the Jo from the other pictures, nor was it the Jo that sat holding him close. The woman in the picture looked hard and mean. And incredibly alone. No one stood near her like the others.

"Th-" Jo's voice caught, startling Harry from his observation of her younger, angrier self. "This was one of the few group photographs taken of the Order of the Pheonix. It was a rebellion group led by Albus Dumbledore." She pointed out a tall man with a beard nearly to his waist and half-moon spectacles. "This photograph was taken nearly a month before your parents…"

"Died?"

"Yeah."

Harry swallowed. He wasn't ready for this part of the story.

"I know this is hard, but I want you to know why it happened. Honestly, I'm not the best person to tell you. I barely knew your parents before the war." He looked up at her, frowning so strongly she almost thought it would be better to stop, but they were already in too deep. "There was a war," her words were quiet, but they still seemed so loud as they twisted around the pair of them. "A war in the magical community between dark wizards and everyone else. The dark wizards believed that only those of _**'pure magical blood**_ '," her voice twisted with disgust, "should be in charge, should rule over the rest of civilization. There were those of us," she nodded to the picture"who disagreed. We fought them at every twist and turn, but it never seemed like we would pull ahead. There were a lot of casualties, on both sides, but their numbers never seemed to lessen. Ours did. This picture is all that remained of the resistance before the war ended a month later."

Harry, though young, was not stupid. He caught the coincidence of his parents death with the end of the war. His lower lip trembled and his breaths seemed to come faster, but still he asked, "How did it end?"

"We had our leader, Dumbledore, for the light. The dark wizards had theirs, Voldemort." Harry frowned again. "He was darkness incarnate. Disgusting and evil, inside and out, who committed many many _horrible_ acts against anyone he deemed beneath him. He killed just as many of his own as he did his enemies." Jo was relieved Harry wasn't looking at her. She was sure the hardness in her eyes from the war had resurfaced with the memories. Coughing, she plowed on to the end. "However, on October 31, 1981, he fell. No one truly knows what happened that night. The only things we do know are that Voldemort entered the Potter's house, _murdered_ your parents, and then died while trying to kill you."

Harry's eyes widened in shock, but Jo didn't let him ask any questions, instead she pulled him into a tight embrace. There was no verbal reaction, but she could feel his sides shaking with every breath he took. "I'm so sorry, Harry." She let out her own shaking breath, her eyes already burning with tears as he shook his head. "I'm sorry we didn't beat him in time, and I'm sorry this was the life you have to live because of our failures. We loved your parents, and when they died, protecting you and the rest of us-" she choked on a sob, "-I'm _so so sorry_." Jo whispered her apology, repeating it even as her own tears began to spill. His little arms wound around her, clutching her tightly as he cried into her chest.

They sat together, grieving two peoples deaths for the same reason. Harry crying fresh tears for the truth of his parents passing. Jo crying old ones for breaking his heart with the truth. In that moment, they cried and grieved together, but come one day, maybe the next, maybe in a month or a year or a decade; they would realize they also began to heal together.

In that moment, Harry understood that Jo needed just as much kindness as she had given him. Even though it hurt, Jo had been the only person to tell him the truth, every time without fail. She had been his only friend in this life Harry had been left to, the only one to care for him. Harry realized there was a piece of him that very much cared for Jo. Was this love?

In that moment, Jo knew her heart belonged only to the little boy in her arms. And to anyone who dare bring him harm, she would fucking destroy them. At all costs. He deserved so much more then the hand he held, and she would move heaven and hell to deliver it. To ensure he had something to smile about every day. He was hers now, and that's what love meant.

It took a long time for their eyes to dry and their breathing to settle, but as all things tend to do, even grieving must rest. They were both tired, emotionally and physically. Harry was afraid to be alone, clinging to Jo like a lifeline. She ran her fingers through his hair as his eyes fluttered shut. Hopefully, today would be the last for dark stories, at least for a little while. They both needed time and peace. It was time to start making _good_ memories.

* * *

Katherine Schotte stared in confusion as a raven pecked at her window. Its overly intelligent black eyes flashed as its head turned to stare back at her inquisitively. _Open the fucking window, peasant_ , it seemed to say. Her heart suddenly lodged into her throat as tears sprung to her eyes. It couldn't be. She hadn't heard from her once best friend in nearly five years. She worried she would finally see her obituary in the paper many times over. Yet, here was the Delacroix raven, a tiny roll of parchment held in its foot pouch.

With unsteady hands, she unlatched the window and coaxed it onto her fingers. It gently nipped her finger, letting out an ear-splitting _CAW_ before it flew off. The fleur-de-lis crossed with a wand and sword was pressed neatly in the wax seal. Her sob finally escaped as she clutched the parchment to her chest. She didn't want to break the wax, it had been so long since she saw the family crest. However, her curiosity for the words was much greater than her childish love of the insignia.

The wax cracked easily, and the rather short letter unfurled. Her lips trembled as she read the five words in that heart-wrenching familiar small and spiky handwriting. Finally, she settled on smirking and shaking her head. "Can't even bloody well say hello, can you, you pillock? Can't be bloody normal ever."

" _ **I need a favor.**_

 _ **JCD"**_

She set the letter on her desk and snatched up her wand. She had a reclusive hermit of a best friend to visit.


	8. Chapter 8 Family

**Chapter 8**

 **Family**

* * *

 **"One day you will do things for me that you hate. That is what it means to be family."-Jonathan Safran Foer, ' Everything Is Illuminated'**

* * *

She found her in the muggle house. Slouched on the floor of the dining room surrounded by photographs and a nearly empty bottle in her hand. Katherine frowned deeply, watching from the shadows as Jo polished off the bottle unsteadily. She was mumbling under her breath, running her fingers over each picture, one by one. Another bottle levitated in from the kitchen.

 _This_ was exactly why their friendship had ended five years ago. She scoffed, finally stepping into the light. Why did I think she had finally come around, Katherine thought bitterly. At the time, she had written the alcoholic off for good, tired of her lies and refusal to stop drinking. Then a year had passed after their final row, and she realized she dearly missed her best friend. The godmother of a child she had yet to meet. She had visited then, only to find Jo passed out in a puddle of vomit on the kitchen floor. She left without a word, deciding she would let Jo come to her. If their friendship, _or her own life_ , meant anything at all, the woman would reach out when she was ready.

A numbness overtook her as she realized she had gotten her own hopes up. "Jo."

Blue eyes, rimmed red and glassy, slowly met her own. Her lips quirked ever so slightly as she gave a rather limp wave. "Katie. Glad you could make it."

Her friend had barely aged a day, Jo thought. Her dirty blonde hair was cropped to her shoulders, and she had a few wrinkles that weren't there before, but overall she still looked like the happy girl that had befriended her in school. Jo wasn't completely trashed, though. She could see the disappointment written all over her old friend's face. Her powder blue eyes glanced to the bottle, and anger flashed in their depths.

" _You're going to kill yourself, Jo. I'm not going to stick around just to watch you drink yourself into the grave." She was ugly crying and shaking, but she stood resolute over the drunk woman, delivering her ultimatum with a strong voice._

" _Then fucking leave," Jo had slurred with a shrug, refusing to look at her friend as she guzzled straight from the bottle._

 _Katherine left._

A tense silence settled around the pair as their final words echoed in both of their ears. With a sigh, usually reserved for her toddler that refused to stay in bed, Katherine sat herself at the small table. Looking at the pictures Jo seemed so interested by, she blinked in shock when James and Lily Potter waved back. "Oh, Jo. Why are you looking at those?"

Jo shrugged, waving them into a neat pile before standing with a groan. "I needed to tell the kid the truth," she sat in the chair Harry usually did. "Then I just lost track, reliving the memories."

"The kid?," Katherine asked, confused and a touch concerned. What child would be around Jo? And why would they need to know about the war? "What kid, Jo?"

The ash haired woman gave her a sharp look, her eyes flashing intensely at the accusing tone. "Harry Potter."

"HARRY POTTER?!"

Jo shushed her, frowning when Katherine snatched up the bottle to help herself to a quick slug of the whiskey. "What the-" she coughed, her throat burning "-hell is Harry Potter doing _here_? I thought he was sent away!" Jo tapped her fingers against the table, trying to hide a smirk behind her hand. A riled up Katie had always been entertaining. "Bloody hell, Jo. How did he end up with you?"

"Well, it's actually a long story, but-"

"You have to tell me. You don't get to drop something like that on me, and think you can just explain it away with a ' _it's a long story_ '." Jo scrunched her nose at the shrill impersonation. "That is not what I sound like."

"Don't care. Tell me _everything_. Now."

So Jo did. She told her about his appearing in her house. How he kept showing up afterwards. Then she told her about how he begged to stay, and the abuse he suffered at the hands of his only family. Finally, she told her about the confrontation with Petunia Dursley. She remained silent through it all, with only a few tuts and sighs, and one particularly throaty growl for his neglectful treatment.

"And now I need your help." Jo finished, shrugging when the witch motioned for her bottle again. With a more tentative sip, Katherine frowned. "Shouldn't you have told Dumbledore?" She recoiled from the venomous glare. "Right, never mind. What do you need me to do?"

"You work in Magical Accidents. Seeing as it's your job,I figured you'd be the best for obliviating them." She indicated to the photographs with a nod. "Obviously, this needs to be kept quiet."

Frowning, Katherine sat back in contemplation. Yes, it is her job to erase their exposure from the minds of muggles. However, doing it in her spare time, without orders or express permission from her superior could land her in deep hot water. That's not even considering the fact that all of this revolved around one of the single most well known names of wizarding history. "And these…muggles, they definitely don't want him back?"

"I highly doubt you'll see it anywhere on their Christmas lists."

Katherine gave her a warning glare for her unnecessary cheek, but Jo just returned it with a raised eyebrow and serious frown. "Katie, they don't want him. They basically torture him because he's magical. I don't see that getting better once he's going to Hogwarts and has a wand to wave around. The woman is absolutely terrified of magic. You don't have to look far in the history books to see how _people_ react to something they fear."

She sighed, and Jo knew she had decided to help. "Alright, fine. You are never to breathe a word of this to anyone, you hear me? I can't afford to lose my job for you, you pillock."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Of course, you know, the same applies to you. No one can know he's here. My seclusion from society would be absolutely _ruined_." Jo smirked when Katherine rolled her eyes. "Oh, _of course,_ not because there are still death eaters running around or for Harry's own right to peace."

Jo sniggered, sipping from the bottle as her friend gave a sardonic smirk. The feeling of easy camaraderie and a re-ignition of friendship warmed through both women. "Alright, show me which house. William will be wondering where I am soon."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore frowned at the hastily penned letter, re-reading the same words for the fifth time. He had not known Josephine Delacroix lived in Little Whinging. He had not known she had remained in Britain, for that matter. Her name had rarely popped up in the last seven years, and only in times of nostalgia was the woman mentioned. Many believed she had given up magic and turned to the muggle world. Apparently, they had all been wrong. How, he pondered, did she end up with Harry Potter?

Had she lured him out? Did she recognize the boy and desired to meet him? Had she told him of his past? Of magic?

Why would Harry go to her when he disappeared? Obviously, they must have met before that moment. They must have created some form of bond. Was Harry instinctively drawn to the presence of another magical being? Or was it more emotional? A friendship, perhaps?

He had many questions and no answers, it seems. Correction, he had one answer. He now knew where Harry Potter had disappeared to. He also knew that he had to return the boy to his family, immediately.

A sharp knock at his door disturbed the headmaster from his musings. Minerva McGonnagall and Severus Snape entered. The witch sped to his desk, an anxiousness in her face as she sat quickly. "Well, Albus? Did you find him?"

He did not speak, merely handed her the letter with a dip of his head. It wasn't terribly long. She gasped after a moment, handing the letter to Severus with suspiciously misty eyes. "Oh thank Godric. At least he's safe."

"Safe?," the potion master drawled, tossing the letter back onto the desk. "We don't know if that's even the real Delacroix. It could be an imposter. No one has seen or heard from the woman since-"

"You can hardly blame her! Anyone would want peace and quiet after-"

"It's been seven years. Everyone else has moved on, returned to their jobs and their lives. Delacroix was not the only person to suffer-"

"Everyone grieves differently, Severus."

Dumbledore raised his hands then, quieting the two as they shared an intense look. "I believe that young Harry has befriended Miss Delacroix. She obviously had offered him a feeling of safety, of understanding. Then, in his time of need, he relied on those feelings, and sought her out." He allowed the professors a moment to process his theory. "The true question, I believe, is why has she not returned the boy home." He could see that neither of his companions believed this truly needed answering.

"Obviously, _Headmaster_ , the boy does not wish to return home," Snape drawled with his trademark sneer pulling at his lips. "However, it could also be Delacroix is refusing to let him leave." Minerva cast a dark glare on the man, but remained silent at Dumbledore's urging. He waved his hand again, indicating for the dour man to continue. "As I said, no one has heard or seen the witch in seven years. Who's to say she hasn't…cracked? Deciding to keep a confused boy as a re-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Severus Snape," Minerva snapped, her lips thinning aggressively. "You may have joined our cause, but you _never_ knew Josephine during that time. What would you understand of her suffering?"

An audible crackling sound esaped Severus as he forcibly ground his teeth. Nostrils flaring, his words dripped with disdain as he glared at both the witch and headmaster. "I understand that the woman was an uncontrollable _beast_ that you had to hide away from the front lines. Your most powerful soldier set as a paper pusher because you didn't know if she would follow orders. Do you take me for a fool? Do you forget that _I_ was there that night?" Severus's baritone hitched, ever so slightly nigh imperceptible, as he scowled thunderously at his companions. "That woman is a monster."

"How dare-"

"Enough!" The witch and wizard winced at the magical pressure filling the air, falling silent under the Headmaster's sharp eyes. "Josephine Delacroix is neither a beast nor a monster. We will not discuss again why her skills were better used out of battles and duels, Severus. The topic has been exhausted. We will remember that she is loyal and _kind_ , and incredibly intelligent. I believe," his voice gentled, and he leaned back, relieving the air of his magic. "That Harry has found a friend in the woman, and did not desire to return home. Also, I believe those qualities, which sorted Miss Delacroix under the Hufflepuff banner, has allied her to the boy. She never was one to stand by quietly as others were bullied," Severus narrowed his eyes at the pointed look sent his way. "However, they do not have the option to continue on in this vein. Young Harry must return to his Aunt's protection."

Putting their disagreement aside, the professors shared a look of misgiving. Neither believed the Dursley household to be a better place for the obviously mistreated boy. "You two will go to the Delacroix estate, and convince young Harry that he must return home. Inform him that his friendship with Miss Delacroix, if you can see no reason to end it, may remain. You both know this is best for his own safety." They both, with visible reluctance, agreed to visit the woman come morning before making a hasty retreat.

Sighing deeply, the old wizard pulled a pipe from his robe and chewed on it thoughtfully. Memories of a young woman with sapphire eyes and hair the color of ash danced behind his eyes. He had seen her as a small child, her eyes wide with wonder upon entering the great hall for the first time. Her large gapped smile when the hat declared ' _HUFFLEPUFF FOR YOU!'_ , and she had skipped to the cheering table. She had been a peculiar child to teach, a rare witch with two wands. A witch with an _old_ bloodline, and an instinctual understanding of magic that even wizards of his age never obtained.

Then she had been a rebellious young teen, caught out after dark near the forbidden forest. He remembered quite clearly how animals, magical and mundane, seemed drawn to her as moths to a flame. She had collected friends much in the same way, children that were pushed to the sidelines seemed to orbit her presence. As stubborn as a bull, ready to charge into a clash of right and wrong. Ready to stand tall and strong as a mountain, a shield to those who were pushed down. An unyielding spirit.

She had been a young woman, a beat in her heart that no one could match. She had defied tradition, left home, and joined a war. Headstrong, she entered battle like a mythical warrior, but he had needed her elsewhere. Her societal ranking and quick mind had filled a position no one else could. As with many who had fought under his guidance, he regretted deeply her necessity in the war. She had suffered. Her casualties had shattered her heart, and…

Severus had described her as a monster, an uncontrollable beast. Perhaps, his memory of that night gave truth to that description. All Dumbledore could see, when she had appeared at the Hogwart's gates in the freezing rain at a quarter past midnight, was a brokenhearted woman with tears filled of suffering and eyes haunted with loneliness. She had spat at him, thrown the blood that littered her clothes at his feet, and ordered him to never seek her out again. Her loyalty was severed, and his pedestal had burned.

He did not know who Josephine Delacroix had become. He did not know who it is that Harry Potter befriended. All he can hope is that somewhere inside of her still sat the girl who loved fiercely, bestowed kindness unequivocally, and protected ferociously, even at the cost of her own soul.

* * *

Jo smiled, waving lazily in return as Harry bid her goodbye at the school gate. He had been quiet that morning, somber in attitude as he listened to Poppy lecture him in great detail the importance of a nutritional breakfast. She had read all about it in a muggle home-making magazine (Her favorite bedtime ritual). It had emphasized greatly on the need for the children to eat so that they're brains would be awake and energized for schooling.

Once he had finally been allowed to leave the kitchen, they had met in the Grand Hall again, silently leaving the house. After a few steps, he had paused and surprised her with a tight hug and whispered ' _thank you_ ' into her stomach. He finally smiled sadly when she ruffled his hair with an ' _Anytime, kid'_.

She stayed a moment longer, watching as Dudley Dursley accidentally bumped shoulders with him.

"Sorry, mate. You new here? I'm Dudley." Harry gave him an unsure smile before they disappeared beyond the door. Hopefully, something could be salvaged from the mess he had with his family. _Hopefully, he actually eats lunch today,_ she thought with an eye roll. She finally turned and headed back home, ready to take a nap after a long night of obliviating muggles and dreams filled with dead faces.

Stepping onto the porch, her hand paused mid-reach for the knob as the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise, a tingle scratching at the base of her skull. Both wands unsheathed themselves as she ducked and spun, both pieces raised offensively as she surveyed the tall grass and quiet street. Her head began to pound in rhythm with her raising pulse. Slowly, she began to rise back into a standing position, but she didn't drop her wands.

"Mrrrow."

She nearly jumped, glaring at the cat as it pattered out from the forest of grass. The little tabby sat itself primly on the sidewalk and stared at her with intelligent eyes. Sighing, she allowed an embarrassed grimace to pass over her face as she took in the recognizable design of spectacles around the cat's eyes. "Good morning, Professor." Lowering her wands, but not yet stowing them away, she let herself fall into an eased stance. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Perhaps, it would be best if we moved this discussion inside. Away from prying muggle eyes." The deep baritone sent a shiver of discomfort down her spine. The derisive eye roll probably should have been withheld, but she couldn't really find it in her to consider the feelings of a _death eater_. The air shimmered, revealing the dark man draped completely in black.

"Snape. I didn't know you could come out in the daylight." He just gave her an impatient flat stare. Minerva McGonnagall finally emerged from her feline form with a warning glare for both of the adults.

"Josephine, we really should go inside. We have much to discuss."

"I'd really rather like to see how long it takes for the dungeon bat to combust into flames."

"And I'd rather turn you into a legless cat and throw you into a dog yard, yet here we are." Her mouth twitched up ever so slightly as he glared down on her. Minerva forced herself between the two, scowling deeply until they broke their stare-down. "Josephine, this is more important than school yard trifles. Please, allow us entry. I feel much too exposed." She let the older woman, her one time mentor, capture her gaze. Her feline eyes commanded the younger woman to bite her tongue.

Finally, Jo snorted and rolled her eyes again. "Alright, fine. I'm sure whatever Dumbledore would send a death eater for shouldn't take more then a minute." She ignored Minerva's exasperated expression and Snape's sneer. Pushing through the door, she didn't pause before leading them up the stairs. "I don't know what they taught in Death Eater camp, but make sure you shut the door. Thanks-so-much." Her lips pulled up again when he slammed the door hard enough to shake the walls. He really was quite the dramatic man.

Oh, she knows she's just poking the _bat_. She knows Severus Snape had defected, or at least secretly changed allegiance, near the end of the war. He was a _reformed_ Death Eater. Dumbledore had approached her with this information, hoping she could keep him from Azkaban. Really, this had nothing to do with the Dark Mark on his arm. It really didn't have much to do with Severus Snape, no matter how much she genuinely disliked him as a person. This, as with everything, had completely and utterly everything to do with Albus fucking Dumbledore sticking his old nose where it most certainly did not belong.

She just respected Minerva too much to bestow any such treatment on the woman.

They entered the Grand Hall, she didn't allow them time to marvel at the ridiculous room before ushering them along to the kitchen. Poppy had teacups and biscuits placed on the bar-top, her ears twitching at the presence of their guests. "Would Mistress like anything else?"

"No thank you, Poppy." Flopping into her usual seat, she snapped her fingers with a sudden thought. "OH, unless, Snape is that too much sunlight for you? This marble really shouldn't be exposed to flames-"

"Mistress!" Poppy chastised, looking horrified as she cast her eyes nervously between Jo and their guests. Minerva was the first to react, sighing so deeply you'd think she had depleted her body of all its air before taking her own seat. Snape continued to glare and refused the tea cup, even as it bumped against his hand. "Oh, just take the tea. I promise, Poppy doesn't have the stomach to squish a bug. She's properly incapable of poisoning you." Gasping, Poppy looked properly offended as she glared at her Mistress. "That not be funny, Mistress."

Shrugging, Jo took a sip of her own tea with a wink towards the dour man. "I beg to differ." Leaning back, she allowed silence to fall over the room as she finally inspected the pair. Minerva looked barely a day older, minus some extra grey in her tight black bun. Her robes, as always, were sensible and her pointy hat was impeccably sat atop her head. Severus, who had finally (thank Merlin) grabbed the tea cup, of course looked much different. His face had filled in and squared, a man's face replacing the memory of a hollow-cheeked boy. That hair, though, was remarkably unchanged.

Of course, they were inspecting the ghost of a woman as well. Her ash colored hair was much longer then the last time Minerva had seen her. Her face had also grown a tad sharper in the chin, her cheeks defined by almost ethereal bone structures. She had deep bruise colored bags beneath her eyes, but they were still as bright and sharp as the girl she had taught.

Severus, almost spitefully, found pleasure in the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Oh, and was that a white hair he spotted? He itched to point it out, but held his tongue. He could act maturely, unlike _someone_. However, even he could see the telltale signs of strain and exhaustion her face and body exuded. Perhaps that was a trait shared by all those who partook in the war.

"So…" Jo tapped a finger against the marble counter. "What has Dumbledore got to say?"

Minerva and Severus shared another brief look. "The Headmaster, as you might remember, placed James and Lily Potter's son in a home after their untimely deaths. With Lily's sister, Petunia Dursley. Who, it also appears, is your neighbor. Of course, we noticed he had gone missing, and-"

"Dumbledore's spy saw him with me." The older witch nodded, taking a sip from her tea to hide her displeasure at being interrupted. "And what does Dumbledore want?"

It was Snape who answered this time. "For the boy to return to his…family." His pause did not go unnoticed. Jo gave them both a small smile, her eyes flashing briefly in the sunlight as she sat back with a shrug. "Sorry, no can do. Please inform Dumbledore that Harry will be staying here indefinitely."

"Miss Delacroix, I do not believe you understand. Harry Potter _must_ return home," Minerva implored, her posture strengthening as she set her tea cup back down. "He does not have another option."

"I said no."

"You don't have a say," Severus Snape drawled, setting his own tea cup down when he realized he was the last to still be holding one.

"Harry said no." Jo inspected her fingernails, picking dirt from beneath the index nail with the edge of her thumb. "He expressed that ' _no'_ clearly, might I add."

"The _child_ doesn't have a say, either. He's returning home whether you or he accepts." Exasperated, Jo finally met his eyes. He was smirking while Minerva gave her another imploring stare.

"Alright, good luck with that then," she snorted, waving as if to shoo away the dour man. "Please go and inform the Dursley's Harry will be returning. I'm sure they'll welcome him with open arms." Snape glared at her haughty tone, and took a step towards her. She responded in kind, standing from her own seat with a wand in hand.

"What have you done, you abhorrent twit?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with. You have my answer. Harry will remain here as a ward of the Delacroix household, and no one, not even Dumbledore, will make him leave unless Harry himself chooses so." She glared at him coldly, raising her wand higher when his arm twitched.

His patience worn thin, Severus finally withdrew his own wand and pointed it straight for the irksome woman. "Then we will make him." Magic began to crackle in the air as the two glared one another down.

"You won't touch a hair on his head, Snape." She raised her left arm, the red wand tip emanating the glow from the beginning of a spell.

A wrinkled hand gently pushed his wand down. "Enough, Severus." Minerva stood at her full height, towering herself over the two taller adults. They both relaxed, but neither stowed away their wands. "I believe Miss Delacroix has made her opinion on the matter known. However, I believe we must also speak with the young Mister Potter."

"He's at school."

"Then we shall wait," Minerva declared, sitting herself once again at the bar and plucking a biscuit from the tray. Severus glared down at Jo with loathing. She returned the look and stuck her tongue out. Because she's an adult. Finally, they both sat as well, glaring darkly as they each took aggressive sips of tea. "These biscuits are delicious."

"Thank yous, Miss Professor. Poppy made them herself."

"Would you be willing to share the recipe, Miss Poppy?" The elf looked as if she could fly from the pure delight filling her little body. "Of course, Miss Professor! Poppy would be honored to share!"

* * *

Harry returned from school, feeling much better than he had since waking this morning. His head had ached from crying, and his nose was stuffed nearly all day as well. Amazingly, school had been good. Great, even. He had been asked by a girl named Abigail to join her for lunch. She had introduced him to her friend Leonard, although he preferred Lenny and seemed more interested in his comics than Harry. They had made him promise to eat with them the next day. He had agreed.

He couldn't wait to tell Jo and Poppy about them.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he smiled at the large trees before running through the Grand Hall for the kitchen. Poppy was sure to be there, at the very least. Rushing through the thick vines, he skidded to a stop in confusion at the scene on the other side.

A stern looking woman with a pointy hat on her head was sipping tea, chatting with Poppy. Jo was sat in her usual seat, her nose buried in a book with a cup of tea in hand. Finally, there was a dark and very unhappy looking man sat at the very end of the bar. He had himself wrapped tightly in a black cape, although it didn't look quite black with all of the fur stuck to it. His long hair was sticking out at strange angles, too, and he was glaring darkly at Jo's dogs as they hopped around him, whining and straining to reach him over one another.

"Remove these monsters, Delacroix," Snape commanded for the hundredth time, his voice tight as he tried with extreme difficulty to keep his tone calm. Any emotion seemed to make the mutts more excitable. He detested the fact he had gained such knowledge.

Jo held up a finger, finishing reading her sentence, before licking the digit and using it to turn the page. "Nope."

"I think they like you, Severus." The older woman flashed the man an amused smirk. "Perhaps we should discuss changing the animal of Slytherin House."

"Don't insult dogs, Minerva. I know you're obviously more prone to the feline species, but give them some credit." Jo finally glanced up, smiling when she noticed Harry in the doorway. "Hey, kid! How was school?"

"Ehm…good. I didn't know you had…friends?" Jo's lips stretched into a smirk when he blushed at his words. "I mean, I didn't know you had people stopping today." He let himself be beckoned over by Poppy, taking a seat between Jo and the older woman.

"Oh, same. Total surprise." Harry glanced up at her, noticing her smile seemed strained, yet her eyes were still bright with amusement. "This is Professor McGonnagall and _Professor_ Snape. They're from Hogwarts." He jumped when a weight settled in his lap, noticing the yellow dog from the previous night had found him again. Once again, he gave her an awkward pat, and relaxed when she instantly laid at his feet afterwards.

"It's very good to see you again, Mister Potter," Professor McGonnagall gave him a tight smile and nodded.

"Again?" Harry asked in confusion. He had never seen this woman before.

"Yes, I knew you as a wee little babe. Watched over the Dursley's house for a few days after you were left in their care." Minerva fought a grimace. Perhaps she shouldn't have led with that particular bit of information.

Harry didn't know what to say, so he remained silent, instead turning his stare on the harassed man in black. He sneered at the boy who looked just like James Potter, trying in vain to shoo away the mongrels. Harry turned away, frowning up to Jo. She shrugged, taking a drink as she tapped her fingernails against the tea-cup. "They've been sent to return you to your family. I-"

"No."

The three adults froze, watching as the little boy turned a glare on the two professors. "You can't make me! I won't go back! I want to stay with Jo!" They felt his immature magic crackle against their skin, and the tea pot exploded. Followed by plates. Then a pot flew from the shelf and smacked against the opposite wall.

"Shhh, kid. Shhh. They can't make you go back," Jo reached out, pulling Harry into her side where he sank into her with relief. "Well, I believe you have your answer, Professors. Please tell Dumbledore-"

"Excuse me, Miss Delacroix. Mister Potter, I don't believe you understand the severity of your choice. Your Aunt and Uncle are your only remaining family. You cannot truly wish to never see them again?" Jo pursed her lips and bit her tongue. It would be best if it came from Harry.

"Ma'am, my _family_ hates me. Jo's the only one who cares about me. I'm not going back there."

"Mister Potter," Minerva thinned her lips, her tone beginning to alter as if she was talking to an unruly student. "You must return home. You will be safer in your Aunt's care."

"Jo keeps me safe."

"Mister Potter-"

"No!"

"Young Harry!," Poppy admonished, clucking her tongue at the boy. He paid her no mind, glaring at the adults who wanted to…to ruin everything! He was finally happy! Jo and Poppy, Abigail and Lenny, this crazy magic house; they weren't going to take him back!

"I'm sorry for yelling, ma'am, but I'm not going back. Jo and Poppy are my family now. If you take me back, I'll just run away." Jo smirked over his head, the warmth in her chest flooding over at his words. Ruffling his hair, she pulled him in for a quick side squeeze before standing.

"I believe you have your answer." She snapped her fingers and the dogs fell back, settling behind her, and allowing the great bat to unfurl from his seat. "Go on back to Dumbledore, tell him I won't deal with his meddling."

Snarling, Snape snapped his cloak causing fur to fly around him in a cloud. "You're making a mistake, Delacroix. And you, boy, should think better about the company you keep." Harry glared at the man as he disappeared from the room, a terrier at his ankles trying to herd him away.

"He was mean," Harry huffed. Jo silently nodded in agreement.

"Oh yes, Severus' patience had been surely tested today, Mister Potter." Minerva settled back into her chair, nodding to Poppy when she offered to refill her cup. She turned slightly, her eyes settling on the young boy as he tried to glare back. _So like Lily_ , she thought fondly, and offered him a rare smile. "I do not wish to be your enemy, Mister Potter, so please, kindly refrain from staring at me as such."

Sheepishly, Harry dropped his eyes to the counter as his shoulders rose around his ears. "Sorry, ma'am," he mumbled while Jo chuckled beside him.

"Minerva McGonnagall, Harry, was quite possibly my favorite Professor during my time at Hogwarts. She is definitely one of the good ones." The professor seemed to straighten with a small swelling of pride at the praise. "Yes, and young Josephine here was quite possibly one of my most difficult yet brightest students. You father was quite adept at Transfiguration, the class I teach, as well. Your mother was much more inclined to charms."

"You taught my parents?" Harry brightened, warming considerably to the older woman at the new information.

"But of course. They were both wonderfully intelligent, although your father was definitely of the arrogant sort that didn't believe studying was of any benefit. They were both in my house as well. Gryiffindors, through and through." Minerva's face had gentled considerably with her memories.

"I want to be in Gryffindor!" Harry smiled brightly when the woman chuckled and offered him a hand to shake. "Then I hope to welcome you in three years time, Mister Potter. Josephine, if you would accompany me out. I daresay it is well past time I take my leave." Jo nodded, giving Harry a pat on his shoulder and a suggestion to start his homework. Minerva wished him and Poppy a good night, receiving the biscuit recipe with another rare smile.

The two women walked in silence until they reached the Grand Hall. This time, Jo allowed the older witch time to pause and peruse the many details. "There is something I believe you should know, if you are going to keep the boy under your care."

"I figured as much. Dumbledore wouldn't push so hard if there wasn't some unknown plot-twist," Jo responded dryly, keeping pace with the witch as she stopped before the fir tree. The older witch withdrew her own wand, comparing the well-worn yet cared for piece to the live tree. The tall fir seemed to shiver, raining a few needles down around them.

They continued on. The older witch rapidly blinked her suspiciously misty eyes as her throat clogged with emotion. "On the night," she began, her voice nearly a whisper between them. "On the night that Lily Potter died, she cast an old and powerful spell. A spell of a mother's love to protect young Harry. This spell keeps him safe specifically from He-who-must-not-be-named, and it runs in the veins of her blood. That blood is shared by her sister, Petunia, which shields Harry as long as he remains in her care."

Jo's heart began to pound in her ears at the implication of her words, and a cold sweat derived of deep-rooted fear broke over her skin. "He's not dead?!," she whisper-shouted. Her chest began to ache as the iciness crept in. "Why didn't Dumbledore tell us-"

"You were gone, Josephine. When he came to this conclusion, you had disappeared," Minerva spoke gently, placing a hand comfortingly on the younger woman's shoulder. "He's not positive, it's merely a theory. He didn't want to announce it to the public and create chaos if he was wrong."

"Dumbledore is never wrong about his theories." The two women shared a tense and sorrowful look. Jo knew what this meant, why Minerva had told her. It was a warning. A warning that her life would see another war, especially if she let Harry remain.

It was a warning come too late. She was sunk now, and she wasn't giving him up for some demented dark lord. She bared her teeth to the floor, letting her mind race as it struggled through the darkness scratching away inside of her. "It doesn't matter. I'll find a way to keep him just as safe, if not more so. That fuck won't get anywhere near him if I have anything to say about it."

Minerva didn't speak, merely gave her shoulder one last squeeze before stepping away for the exit. "Be sure you do, Miss Delacroix." The older witch finally departed, a lightness in her heart as she realized that perhaps, this was exactly where Harry Potter was meant to end up. This family, _his_ family, will fight for him. They will protect him and care for him. Something, she believed, that Dumbledore hadn't calculated into his plans revolving around the young boy.

* * *

Jo took a long drag from her flask, tapping her fingers against her thigh as she read another page from the heavy tome in her lap. A small snore sounded from beside her causing her to smile. Harry was spread like a starfish across her bed, his retriever friend curled at his feet. He had crawled into her bed an hour or so after his bedtime. She hadn't asked him why he was here when she saw him standing timidly in her doorway. With a jerk of her head, he had hurried across the room, and flopped in beside her. He had let her scratch his back gently, remembering she had always asked her father to do the same when she was little. Within minutes, he had been fast asleep, a hand clutching the hem of her t-shirt.

She thread her fingers through his hair, brushing her finger over his scar, and she felt the residual magic thrum beneath the skin. Sighing, she retracted her fingers. Placing a kiss against the pads of her index and middle finger, a bit of her own magical essence seeped out, and she pressed the fingers against the scar. The thrum softened, ebbing away until she could barely feel it. It would return when he wakes in the morning, but for tonight he could enjoy a peaceful dream that wasn't edged with darkness.

Turning back to her tome _'_ _ **Et Sanguinem Magicae Familia'**_ , she let her brain eat away at the information as she tried to formulate a plan. She had an ever growing check-list forming in the back of her mind. This time, she will be prepared. This time, she won't have to rely on Albus fucking Dumbledore for guidance. This time, the war won't be allowed to take what's hers.


	9. Chapter 9 Not Goodbye

**Hey all! I know this is a very quick update, which is very much not like me, but this chapter just built itself. I had to stop myself or else it would have ended up being _way_ too long. I wanted to warn you as well. This story, guys, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. I want this story to touch on very real life aspects, good and bad. I know Jo and Harry are just *sigh* they just are, and I love that. BUT. From this point on, we're all going to be on an emotional ride with highs, yes, but also very deep lows. **

**I also want to give such a big and warm and love filled shout out to all the favorites, follows, and reviews you guys have been feeding me. Thank you , thank you, thank you! It truly brightens my day when I see that there are actually people interested in the story I'm creating. I love it, and if I could physically hoard them like a dragon, I would probably be living in a cave nestled beneath them all.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy, and I love (obviously) any and all feedback.**

 **~Ghostdoor**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Not Goodbye**

* * *

 **"Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting"-J.M. Barrie, _Peter Pan_**

* * *

 **October 1988**

The week following Minerva McGonnagall and Severus Snape's visit flew by for Harry. Wednesday through Friday, he had gone to school and taken his lunch with Abigail and Lenny. He would return home, complete his homework under Poppy's watchful eyes. Jo, he discovered, was a fantastic tutor for his maths, which had been giving him trouble with their new chapter on fractions. After homework, Jo always had something planned.

Wednesday, she had drug him out of the house. They had popped in to many shops, and she had bought him a new wardrobe. She hadn't allowed him time to consider how monumentally earth tipping receiving new clothes, special for him, had been. Instead, she had tugged him along to another shop, bursting at the seams with knick-knacks, toys, books, and he was fairly certain there was a section dedicated to lamps. She had urged and even pleaded with him to choose whatever he liked. He was nearly certain she would have bought the entire store if he had asked. Instead, they had left with only a paperback book, a new box of pencils for school, and a hacky sack. Jo had, oddly enough, bought a large poster, but refused to let him see.

Thursday, Abigail and Lenny had asked if he would like to join them at the park that afternoon. Jo had shooed him off, making him promise to be home before dinner. At the park, he and Abigail practiced with his new hack sack while Lenny sat on the swings with his newest comic book. He found out Abigail was the youngest of five, all girls. She also hated being called Abby. Lenny had one older brother. Abigail whispered that he had died, and Lenny didn't like talking about him. Not long after that, they had all headed home, where Jo was waiting for him on the steps of the porch. She took him back to _'The Simple Place_ ' for dinner.

Friday, Jo didn't appear for breakfast. Poppy found her asleep under the table in the muggle house, surrounded by books. She sluggishly walked him to school, croaking for him to have a good day, and that she had big plans for them once he came home. Abigail and Lenny were waiting by the school gate, and they asked him if Jo was his mother. "No, that's just Jo," he had replied with a shrug. Abigail tried to ask him more about it, but they had to separate for their own classes. He had let out a breath of relief, unsure of how to answer all of her nosy questions. Thankfully, she seemed to have forgotten all about Jo by lunchtime, instead regaling the two boys with an exaggerated tale of how she had cut off her third oldest sister's pigtail in the middle of the night. Harry laughed so hard, milk had shot from his nose when Lenny quietly declared he was thankful to not have a sister.

Jo lounged in a comfortable arm chair, one leg hung over the arm as she read a thin book on the porch. She could hear the telltale giggles and chatter of children as they walked home from school. Harry and his new friends were at the corner of the block, quickly exchanging final words before separating for the weekend. She was glad he finally seemed to be making friends. She was curious if Dudley Dursley had truly been the root cause of Harry's loneliness in school. If so, that boy seemed to have taken his hatred of his cousin to an extreme.

"Hi, Jo!" Harry ran up the pathway, his new messenger bag swinging against his hip. "Abigail says hi, by the way. She also wanted to know if I could come out tomorrow, and play with her and Lenny at the park." His little face had stretched into a wide smile, and she was amused slightly by his excitement. Friendship was quickly working wonders on the usually quiet boy.

Shrugging, she dog-eared her book and stretched. "Sounds like a plan to me, kid. C'mon, let's get you inside and changed. We've got a big night ahead of us." They made their way inside the house, Harry practically sprinting up the stairs ahead of her. Jo gave him some time to settle before knocking against the door frame to his room. She sat on the edge of his bed, the poster she had purchased the other night laid out across the comforter. A map of the world.

"So."

"So?," Harry raised his eyebrows in confusion, trailing a finger across the edge of Antarctica.

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

Harry's eyebrows scrunched in thought as he let his eyes roam the world. He didn't particularly know anything about anywhere. His fingers traveled across Australia, Japan, Russia and Greenland. The drawing of a pyramid caught his eye. He knew about those. "Egypt."

"Fantastic," Jo mumbled, grinning lightly as she bumped her shoulder against his. "I love Egypt." Suddenly, she stood and started for the doorway. "Well, come on then. We only have a few hours of daylight left." Even more confused, Harry ran after her.

She led him up, up, and up, past floors he had never seen. Finally, she stopped at what he believed to be the Twelfth floor, and they both caught their breath. This doorway, unlike all the others, was not covered in a thick curtain of foliage. It was wide open, and he could see the floor inside was a humongous round room with a raised three foot high column directly in the center. "Welcome to the World Room," Jo said, stepping through first, and the doorway shimmered around her.

Harry followed, coming to stand beside her with a look of awe at the large and intricate archways surrounding them. "This was the creation of my Great-Great-Grandmother Beatrici. As you can see, she had a deep love for travel." Smirking to herself, Jo watched as the kid tried to take in all the doors. Each archway had been intricately detailed to represent their destination. When he seemed to realize there was just too much to absorb, he returned to her next to the podium. "So Egypt, yes?"

Mute with wonder, Harry nodded and watched as she placed her hand over the glass orb atop the podium. A small globe appeared inside, and she waved him over. "Well, go on then. This is _your_ destination. Just find where you want us to go, and tap it." She placed his hand on the globe, and he watched in fascination as it turned with his fingers. Moving closer to see, he slowly spun it around until Egypt came into view. Pressing his finger against the country, it began to expand under his touch until the cities within its borders became visible. The small pyramids stood south of Cairo, and he quickly tapped the glass above them.

He jumped when the loud sound of rocks sliding echoed around them. Jo shrugged, indicating with a tip of her head for him to watch as the wall began to turn. Well, more specifically, the floor turned, groaning in protest the entire way until they stopped directly before an ancient looking archway made of large smooth limestone blocks. Hieroglyphs etched into their faces began to glow as the doorway shimmered. It suddenly grew bright. Harry squinted, trying to watch whatever magic was happening. Through the spots in his vision, he could see daylight and sand. Lots and lots of sand.

"Not to ruin the moment, but there are a few rules I should probably mention before we go gallivanting across the world." Sighing, Jo led him towards the door, and a few steps through. "We can only use a doorway if it's opened from inside the house, and the there's a time limit before the house closes the door itself. So, say you decide to go running off to Peru without telling us, and you pass the time limit, you're stuck." She waited for Harry to nod in understanding. "Secondly, do you see this?"

Harry watched as she ran her fingers through the golden barrier between them and Egypt. "Right now, we are completely hidden. Once you step through the barrier, you will be completely visible and vulnerable to the other side. It's best to try and avoid appearing out of thin air in front of the locals, and please avoid running into an active volcano, understood?" Nodding again, he looked around, but couldn't see anyone at all. "And thirdly, you can't tell _anyone_ about this. Not even other magicals. This room is _so_ unbelievably illegal, _your_ great-grandchildren would probably spend their lives in Azkaban." Bumping against the kid, she shot him a gentle smile. "Family secret, yes?"

Harry couldn't help but smile goofily in response. "Family secret," he agreed with an excited nod.

"Off we go then." Jo took a hold of his hand, and they stepped through the barrier together.

* * *

Even though he had promised to never tell another soul about the world room, Harry was having a very difficult time trying to keep himself from blurting out all about Egypt to Abigail and Lenny. He and Abigail were practicing with the hacky sack again, but all his thoughts were filled by the imperiously tall pyramids, and the bright colors of the bazaar stands with thousands of mystical looking trinkets and tokens of Egypt. Jo had even taken him to the wizard market. There was a miniature sphynx waiting in his room, ready to ask him a new riddle.

"C'mon, Harryyyy," Abigail whined, pouting when he missed the small sack, again.

"Sorry," he ruffled his hair with embarrassment, reaching down to pick it out of the mud. "Guess I'm no good for it today." She sighed again, rolling her eyes in dramatic fashion before flashing him a bright smile.

"Why don't we go swing with Lenny, then."

In the cold of October, the three children on the swing set were the only inhabitants of the park that day. Lenny barely swung, his eyes focused on the book in his lap. Harry and Abigail had quickly fallen into a competition on who could swing higher. "Did you hear?," Abigail asked, puffing slightly as she pushed her legs out.

"About?" Harry responded, confused. She had a bad habit of always asking vague questions, expecting the other two to just inherently understand.

"We're having a special assembly on Monday." It was Lenny who answered, having given up on reading with all the bumping the swing set was doing thanks to their aggressive movements. "The teachers were talking about it in the hallway on Friday. Some of them sounded unhappy about it, said we're too young."

"Makes me all the more curious," Abigail stated, pushing her chin length black hair back from her face. She and Harry finally subdued their swinging, dragging the toes of their shoes against the ground. "What do you think, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, ruffling his hair. "Don't really know. I didn't hear about it at all before now. Wonder what it could be about?"

Lenny coughed, his entire face growing red as he mumbled something too low for either of them to hear. "What?," Abigail and Harry asked simultaneously, leaning in on either side of the boy to hear him better.

"S-sex, maybe." All three children looked bright as tomatoes, each looking away from one another awkwardly. They all deeply hoped it had nothing to do with the birds and the bees.

* * *

The assembly, thankfully, was in fact a lecture about drug, alcohol, and tobacco abuse. There were large pictures of black lungs and cancerous lesions. A poster showing the physical affects of long-term alcohol abuse. Another poster telling them to 'SAY NO TO DRUGS!'. At the end, the lecturing group had passed out small pamphlets with a short paragraph on each substance and their consequences. He wasn't sure why, but Harry hid them in his room as soon as he got home. Something in his stomach clenched at the thought of Jo seeing what he had.

The next day, Lenny was absent. He and Abigail decided to collect his missed school work and drop it off on their way home. Neither he nor Abigail had ever visited Lenny's house, but they got the address from his teacher. After school, they set off for 12 Sparrow Road.

They found the little white house easily enough. It had a black metal gate that groaned loudly when they pushed it open. Abigail rang the doorbell, and they heard someone come running down the stairs from inside. Whoever it was obviously tripped, causing a loud thump to carry through the door. Finally, the lock clicked, and the door was opened just a crack with Lenny peering out.

"What are you two doing here?" They both startled at his aggressive tone. Even Abigail, who had known Lenny longest, had never heard him sound angry before. "We've brought your schoolwork. We were worried when you didn't show up today," Harry answered, glancing back to his girl friend with confusion. They both jumped again when Lenny shut the door with a bang.

"I don't want it. You guys shouldn't come to my house. I'll see you at school." His voice carried through the wood of the door.

"But Lenny!" Abigail stopped when they both heard the obvious sounds of much larger footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Who's that yellin' at my door, boy?!" This voice was much older, and gruff. And _mean._ Harry's shoulders started to rise as he and Abigail took a step away from the door.

"Just two kids from school, Da'. They were bringing me my homework-"

"Why weren't you at school? Too good for school now?"

"N-no, sir. Mum told me I cou-"

Abigail shrieked at the sound of skin hitting skin. The door flew open, and both children stared in shock and fear at the very large man glaring down at them from the doorway. Lenny was curled in a ball on the floor by his feet, obviously crying even though you couldn't hear him. "Get your bloody arses off my property!" The man's eyes were red and wide, and spit flew from his mouth, like a rabid dog.

Harry gripped Abigail's hand and dragged her away from the house. They ran all the way to the corner of his block, where they usually stopped to split up after school. She looked scared, and Harry could feel her hand shaking in his. "W-was that his father?," she asked quietly, looking back down the way they had come. "How could he be so mean?"

He didn't have an answer, so he squeezed her hand. Harry couldn't understand why he was so mean either. It seemed to him that a lot of adults were that way for no good reason. "Do you think we should tell someone?"

Abigail bit her lip, shaking her head slowly after a moment. "I think we should talk to Lenny first."

Harry agreed. Abigail asked him to walk her home. He figured it was the least he could do as guilt gnawed away at his insides. Him of all people, someone who very much understood the situation, had ran away and left Lenny there. All alone.

"Maybe I should tell Jo. She'd know what to do."

Abigail shook her head again, much more aggressively. "We talk to Lenny, first."

Harry sighed, but nodded in agreement again.

* * *

Nearly a week had passed since the night Harry had returned home late from school. He had looked shaken and pale, but adamantly refused that anything was wrong. He claimed he was tired, so Poppy fed him an early dinner and he had retired for the night. Then every day after that, Jo had noticed him grow more quiet and withdrawn. She had offered to let him go flying in hopes of some response, but he had declined, citing schoolwork.

Poppy noticed Jo drinking more often at Harry's continued seclusion.

Come Monday, when Harry had returned from school once again with a forlorn expression and the conversation skills of a mime, Jo had decided it was time to find the the root of it. She had a suspicion of what the cause might be, but she needed to hear it from the kid. Once dinner was cleared away, she gave Poppy a nod, and the elf disappeared.

"Oh no," she said as Harry began to rise from his seat. "You can sit right back down. You and I need to talk." He ruffled his hair, keeping his eyes on the table as his shoulders began to rise. "C'mon kid, look at me. You're really starting to worry us, ya'know."

Sighing, Harry finally looked up, catching Jo's eye as she moved over a seat closer to him. "I'm fine, Jo. I'm just-"

"Tired? Seems unlikely considering you've gone to bed at six o'clock sharp nearly every night for the past week. C'mon kid. Don't bullshit me." Jo frowned at him when he just turned away. "Is…is it because of next week?"

Frowning, Harry looked up at her in confusion. "Next week?"

"Yeah, the-" Jo sighed, leaning back with a groan. "The thirty-first. I just realized, you probably never knew the significance of that date until now."

Slowly, his brain cleared the fog caused by Lenny's continued absence from school and actually focused on the conversation. "The thirty-first is when…my parents…died." Jo nodded sadly, frowning deeply. "I didn't-I forgot….how could I forget?!" Harry suddenly felt very upset. Too upset. They both winced as Jo's coffee mug exploded in her hand, and Harry stared up at her in horror. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean t-to."

Jo just waved him off, using her left wand to vanish the ceramic shards and heal the tiny cuts in her fingers. "Sh, s'alright. Already fixed it." She gave him a small smile before reaching out to brush her fingers through his hair. He flinched away, still horrified at the fact that he had _hurt_ Jo. She didn't give him the option to refuse though, instead gripping his arm and tugging him into her chest. "Shhh. It's okay, kid. You gotta calm down, though. _Breathe_. Let out all those big feelings with your breath," Jo rubbed his back, watching as his torso expanded with a deep breath.

They sat like that for a few minutes, both quiet apart from his deep breathing. She let him go as he pulled away, staring at her with guilty eyes and a very sad face. "I'm sorry, Jo."

"S'alright. I'm sorry for upsetting you." Harry shook his head, telling her she hadn't. "Did you want to do something? That day, I mean." She smiled gently, the tightness in her chest releasing when he let her stroke his hair from his face.

"I-" he cut off, looking at his hands. "Do they have a grave? I know my Aunt Petunia always visits her parents' grave, but I've never seen my mum's there." Jo nodded, they definitely have a grave. She had been there when their caskets had been laid inside. "Could we visit it?"

"Yeah. We'll go next week." Harry seemed very much relieved, smiling sadly up at her. She gave him another moment before speaking again. "So, what is actually going on then?"

Harry frowned, his shoulders instantly rising around his ears. "I-I don't know if I can tell you." Raising an eyebrow, Jo decided to just let him do the talking, and relaxed into her chair, ready to wait him out. "It's about someone else. Until he tells me so, I promised I wouldn't tell you."

"And do you want to tell me?"

Harry nodded, relaxing at Jo's subdued reaction. "I wanted to tell you when we saw it."

Frowning, Jo tapped her fingers against the bar-top with a sharp exhale through her nose. "Then I expect you to tell me when you can. I only have one question, and I do expect an answer now. Can you do that?" Harry nodded, his face tortured and guilty by the conversation. _Good_ , she thought. She didn't enjoy secrets. "Are you in danger?"

"No."

"Is your friend?"

She tapped her fingernails again when he didn't immediately answer. Finally, he offered her a feeble shrug. "Then I suggest you tell me soon. I can't help if I don't know what's going on." She let him escape the kitchen after that, cracking open a new bottle of whiskey for the night.

A selfish part of her was pleased Harry was not upset with her. She had worried herself into a frenzy thinking she had royally screwed up and pushed the kid away. As the liquid burned through her veins, she found herself a little more than upset and impatient that he hadn't just told her about whatever was wrong. Drumming her fingers against the glass, she reminded herself that patience was necessary when it came to Harry, and she had full confidence that he would come to her when the time was right.

"I can be patient," she grumbled, finishing the glass. She scowled when the painting of the centaur behind her snorted in disbelief. "I _can,_ you mule."

* * *

Lenny finally returned to school that Wednesday. The faint bruising of a black eye and busted lip told his friends why he had missed so much school. He refused to go to lunch, leaving the three sitting in the library. Harry and Abigail pushed and prodded until finally, tears leaking from his dark brown eyes, he finally told them the truth.

Robert Leonard Caldwell II had served for the military. He had married Sarah Hawe in 1960, and one year later, they had welcomed their first son, Howard Robert Caldwell. They had raised a good son who, like any other boy, wanted to make his family proud. In 1979, he had enlisted to serve just like his father. In 1980, his parents, after many years of failed pregnancies, brought a second son into the world. This son had been born early and was plagued with a frail immune system. Robert had been less than thrilled and disengaged himself from the boy. May 1982, Howard died in the line of action. His mother, in her grief, put all of herself into raising their remaining son. Robert poured himself into the bottle and never resurfaced.

"You need to tell someone, Lenny," Abigail stated firmly, holding the sniffling boy's hand. "Harry said he can tell Jo. She could help you." Harry nodded along, patting the boy on his shoulder. Lenny just shook his head, giving them both a watery smile.

"That's alright. I've actually asked you both here to tell you something. My mum is taking me away, said she's leaving my Da', and we'll be moving in with her sister in London." Abigail looked like she didn't know whether to be relieved or cry. Harry felt much the same way. "I-I wanted to come today, and tell you both goodbye." Harry felt his eyes burn with tears and his throat began to clog with emotion.

Turning to Abigail, Lenny took both of her hands in his. "I've known you the longest, and you've really been a great friend, Abs." She scowled half-heartedly at the nickname. "I just wanted to say thanks, for always bugging me and interrupting my reading. I'm glad you picked me as your friend." They both sniffled and shared wobbly smiles. Lenny turned his dark brown eyes on Harry then, releasing one of Abigail's hands to grab his. "We've only known each other for a few weeks, but I think we could have become really good friends too. I feel like we already are, actually. Considering you were gonna tell your mu- Jo about my Da'." Lenny squeezed both of their hands then, and they squeezed back. "I'm gonna miss you guys."

"You can always phone us, you know," she mumbled, sniffling loudly. Lenny nodded, and they all agreed to share phone numbers and addresses, seeing as Harry didn't have a telephone.

At the end of the school day, Lenny's Mum was waiting outside in her car. Boxes filled the small automobile leaving barely any room inside for Lenny. Abigail threw her arms around him, and he and Harry shared a firm handshake like men are supposed to. "You know, it doesn't matter that you're moving away," Harry started. Lenny grimaced when his Mum honked her horn, but nodded that he had heard. "We'll still be friends, no matter what."

"Harry's right. Don't get lost in your stories, make sure you call and write as much as possible. Maybe in the summer we can meet up."

"Every year?," Lenny asked, his eyes suspiciously misty. Oh hell, Harry thought, all their eyes are misty. "Every year," Harry and Abigail agreed. Lenny's Mum honked the horn again. "I gotta go…I guess this is good-bye."

"No, it's see you next summer." Abigail smirked, and held out her pinky. She nudged Harry in the side, and he did the same.

"Right. See you next summer then." Lenny smiled sadly, wrapping both of his pinkies with theirs. Then he was gone.

Abigail and Harry stood in front of the school, waving like maniacs until they could no longer see the car. He walked Abigail home again that day, letting her hug him tightly and cry into his shoulder. She made him promise he wouldn't move to London either. Then she made him promise to be her friend forever. He agreed to both.

Jo watched from the dining room window as Harry moped along the sidewalk. He drug his feet across the front pathway and up the porch stairs. Sad, watery green eyes pouted at her from the doorway. She didn't know what had happened, but she opened her arms nonetheless, knowing he at least needed a hug.

She felt him cry into her shoulder, sniffling and coughing as she tried to squeeze him back together. When he pulled away, a small smile was on his face. He sat across from her in his chair, and proceeded to tell her the very sad tale of Leonard 'Lenny' Caldwell. She didn't interrupt, and when he had finished, all she had was one question. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing," Harry replied easily, smiling a touch brighter. "His Mum left his Dad, and they're moving to London today. He came to school to tell us he would see us next summer."

"That's tough, kid, but I think you and Abigail both know it's for the best."

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "He'll always be our friend, though. No matter what."

"That's all that matters." Jo raised her glass in a toast. "To next summer, then?"

Sniffling, Harry nodded and chuckled dryly at the sudden appearance of a glass filled with milk. He clinked it against Jo's with a sad smile.

They fell into an easy silence then, both lost within their own thoughts. Harry suddenly broke it with a simple request. "Can I try flying again today?"

* * *

Monday, October Thirty-first rolled in with heavy rainstorms mixed with snow. Jo had allowed Harry a day off from school. He had spent the previous night cocooned beside her in bed and had remained there until nearly noon. Finally, Poppy had drug him from his nest of pillows and blankets with a bribe of all his favorite food, but he found he had been unable to stomach much. He had tried to apologize for his lack of an appetite, but Poppy had waved it away. "Grief, Young Harry, desires more than even Poppy's delicious food can gives."

 _Is that what this feeling is?_ Harry wondered. Jo had answered his unspoken question, reading his face like an open book. "You've never been given the chance to truly grieve your parents, kid. You're probably going to feel a lot today, and that's normal. Just remember that Poppy and I are here for you." Harry was grateful they cared, but he felt there was something else causing his heart to thump so hard.

At one o'clock, he and Jo departed through the world room for Godric's Hollow. The place he had lived, Jo told him.

They stepped through the barrier into a sheet of rain. Jo cast a charm that caused an umbrella styled barrier to sprout above them. Harry could barely make out the solemn looking town around them. Without speaking, he let her lead him through the small town. All the houses looked bleak and grey, only the color of twinkling lights in the windows and colorful curtains stood out. They came upon a small stone church as its bell chimed the time. Approaching the Cemetery yard beside it, Jo finally came to a pause at the gate.

Leaning down, she brushed his hair away from his face and tried for an easy smile. The anxiousness in her own chest was wreaking havoc on her, but she knew Harry needed her to keep steady. "Ready?" Harry nodded silently, gripping her hand tightly as she led them through the wrought iron gate.

Harry tried to be brave like a Gryffindor as he and Jo stepped through soaked leaves and mud. He wasn't sure he was breathing as they passed rows upon rows of headstones. The nearest stone read the name Knighton. The next was Abbott. They kept passing stone after stone, and his eyes sought frantically for the one carved with Potter. "Where are they?," Harry whispered, trying in vain to strain his eyes.

"Almost there, only a few more feet." Jo assured him, her own eyes having locked on the white marble headstone before they had even entered the hallowed ground. It sat as the last in line of a long row made up of the Potters' final resting place. She heard Harry's breath hitch as they came upon the first Potter stone, Hardwin. "This is your family's row. All of your ancestors are buried here." Harry made a face, obviously struggling with his curiosity at reading every gravestone combating his desire to visit his parents. "We can look at them later. That white one, there. That's the one…"

"My parents." Harry felt a nervousness bubble inside of him, it kept him from running ahead. Jo's hand gave off a warmth his body felt devoid of as they closed the distance. It felt like an eternity, yet sudden once the tombstone finally stood directly before him. His lips moved as he read the stone.

 **James Potter Lily Potter**

 **27 March 1960 30 January 1960**

 **31 October 1981 31 October 1981**

 **The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed Is Death.**

Neither of them spoke. In the distance, thunder rolled, but the rain began to let up as they stood in silence. Jo slowly lowered herself to one knee. Opening her satchel, she pulled out a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, heather lavender, sweet peas, coltsfoot, and forget-me-nots; the flowers were surrounded by a bay wreath. Laying it across the base of the stone, she let a tear finally escape. With a deep breath, she exhaled quickly through her nose and pulled her lips into another small smile. Turning, she beckoned Harry closer. He kneeled beside her, reaching out to touch the stone base with reverence.

"Here, I thought you should place this one." Jo pulled the small framed photograph from her bag, passing it into his trembling fingers. It was a mundane photograph of James and Lily with a month old baby Harry held between them. He stared at the picture for a long time, tears slipping from his eyes as his breathing grew more frantic. When the sob finally tore from his throat, she pulled him close to offer a weight of comfort through his internal storm.

"W-why did you leave me? You looked so happy with me, why did you leave?!" He felt the frame dig into his stomach as he leaned over in physical pain as too many emotions erupted inside. "Why did it have to be you? I-I want my mum and dad, not just photos of smiles I don't remember!" He felt Jo rub his back. He felt her care in the action, and realized, quietly and gently whispered from his heart, that he wasn't alone anymore. Slowly, his breathing regained a sense of normalcy, and the pressure inside lessened enough for him to sit back up.

"I **miss** you." With trembling fingers, he placed the photograph gently between their names. "But I found a new family, and they take care of me. Really great care of me, actually. So, hopefully, you don't need to worry about me anymore." He slouched against Jo, suddenly very tired as he stared into his mum and dad's eyes. "I have friends now, too. I think, maybe, you would have liked them." It seemed after that, the words wouldn't stop coming out. He wouldn't know until much later, but Harry spent almost an hour telling his parents all about his life, his love of magic, Poppy's cooking, Lenny leaving, how Jo was his first ever friend, and so on and so on. Jo sat beside him the entire time, silent and steady, but gentle with her side-hugs and back rubs when he needed them. Just like she promised.

* * *

Bathilda Bagshot leaned against her gnarled old cane, her old eyes barely making out the woman and boy within the cemetery. They had finally removed themselves from the headstone of James and Lily Potter, stretching their legs as the boy inspected the row of Potters that had come before him. The rain had finally ended, allowing the old woman to leave her cottage with the precious cargo in her pockets.

Even if she couldn't quite see her, the old witch could tell the moment Josephine Delacroix noticed her lurking at the gate. With her eyesight gone, her hearing wasn't much better, and she couldn't make out Delacroix's words to the boy before finally making her way to over. The leaves squelched beneath her boots as she approached. Bathilda secretly soaked in the presence of the Delacroix girl's magic as it expanded instinctively and surrounded her old bones.

"Bagshot."

"Now, is that anyway to greet your elder, Delacroix? I would've thought your mother had beaten some type of politeness into you." Bathilda cackled, finally able to see the details of the woman's face as she rolled those sapphire blue eyes. Those little gems had been from her father, but that hair and facial structure just screamed Delacroix blood.

"What are you doing here, Bagshot? Did Dumbledore beg you to approach us as well?" Jo was emotionally wrecked, and her patience wasn't strong enough to extend past Harry at the moment. She didn't want to deal with the Headmaster's schemes today.

Bathilda cackled again, giving truth to some muggle stereotypes. It grated Jo's ears. "Godric, _no_. The old ninny would be right desperate to seek my assistance. _No._ " She cackled again, seeming chuffed by the very notion of it all. "I am here bearing gifts of knowledge." Her old hands shook as she reached inside her pocket, retrieving a shrunken box covered in lint balls. "You see, not many people knew that I had been quite close with the Potters before all that ugly business. In a moment of genius, if I do say so myself, Lily entrusted me with all the historical journals and tomes of the Potter library. Seeing as I've already devoured all their information, I thought it best to pass them onto their rightful owner."

Jo followed her milky eyes to where Harry was intensely studying another ancestor's gravestone. Frowning, she squinted down on the old witch, holding her hand out to receive the small package. "That's thoughtful of you, Bagshot. I'm sure he'll very much appreciate them." Believing (strongly hoping) their exchange over, she began to turn away, but was stopped when that wrinkled old hand shot out deceptively quick to snatch her sleeve.

"I have one more gift for you, _girl_. Actually, two. The first is the suggestion to learn some bloody manners, you twit." Jo exhaled loudly through her nose, but thought better of interrupting when the old woman leaned in. Those old milky eyes were sparkling mischievously with the promise her time wasn't in fact being wasted. "The second is information. Our dear Headmaster has sent in a plea to the Wizengamot, he plans to have them order you to return the boy to those dreadful muggle relatives."

"How do you know this?," Jo questioned quickly, moving in to tower over the older woman.

She merely cackled again, showing off rotting teeth. "When you live as long as someone like me, you learn that having eyes and ears everywhere saves you from the boredom of time. Dumbledore has his little spies, and I have my own little spiders spying on those spies. You're a smart girl, don't let him push you around on his little chessboard again." That old wrinkled hand patted her's condescendingly. "Give the boy my regards, I did genuinely enjoy his mother's visits when he was a babe."

Finally, Bathilda released her and began hobbling away. Jo watched her go with a scowl as splitting pain began behind her eyes. Were she and Harry were ever going to catch a break?

"Jo, can we go home now?"Harry's voice dripped with exhaustion from behind her.

Releasing another aggressive breath through her nose, she turned with a nod. "Yeah, let's head out. Poppy's probably worried sick." They shared equally tired smiles, and Jo pulled him into her side, surreptitiously sliding the little box into her pocket. She could give it to him later.

"Who were you talking to?"

"The scariest witch to ever walk this earth, kid."


	10. Chapter 10 Darkness

**Wow, Chapter 10. I know that's not a lot of chapters, but I feel just a smidge accomplished here. I wanted to take yet another moment to properly thank everyone for their support. It is so very appreciated, and it truly does make my day.**

 **So a proper shout-out (Since I haven't taken the time to so far) to:**

 **thenightowl57**

 **priestessedgecombe**

 **FALLING-ANGEL24**

 **aandm20**

 **painted heart**

 **Tabitha Hawthorne**

 **Corii00**

 **Darknees Queen**

 **Ori Heartlyng**

 **Volesprit69**

 **Synoel**

 **I Like Da Way U Lick Da Bowl**

 **Guest**

 **You guys are some true spots of sunshine, thank you so much for the reviews.**

 **I hope you enjoy**

 **~Ghostdoor**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **November 1988**

 **"You cannot defeat darkness by running from it, nor can you conquer your inner demons by hiding them from the world. In order to defeat the darkness, you must bring it into the light." Seth Adam Smith, _Rip Van Winkle and the Pumpkin Lantern_**

* * *

November first blew through overcast and chilled, but Harry felt considerably lighter and relaxed compared to the previous day. He wasn't happy or cheerful, but smiles came easier during school. If he had to compare his emotional being to something physical, he would have to say a freshly cleaned chalkboard. He was ready to be written on with new words, new lessons for the next chapter.

Abigail had worried incessantly over him during lunch, asking where he had been the day before. Had he been sick? Was he too sad about Lenny leaving? Did something happen to Jo?

"I went to visit my parents'." He finally told her when she paused to breathe, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"Your parents?" Abigail had tilted her head in confusion, her eyebrows drawn up. It was well known among their peers that Harry Potter does not have parents. Dudley Dursley had made sure everyone heard his taunting words about how Harry's parents had offed themselves, drunk in a car wreck. That's how Harry had gotten his scar.

"Well," he started, shifting uncomfortable, "I visited their graves for the first time. Jo took me." Abigail inspected him with narrowed eyes, nibbling on her apple slices while Harry continued inspecting his sandwich.

"Annnnd how was that?"

Harry shrugged, once again smiling timidly. "Good, I guess. I told them about you and Lenny, of course." He didn't tell her about yelling at them, or how he had cried. "It felt, well not _good_ , but it made me feel better to finally visit them." Abigail had nodded in understanding, and for once, did not pester or 'put her nose where it didn't belong' as her second oldest sister always scolded her for. "Anything good happen yesterday?" Instantly, she launched into telling him all about the day's gossip.

David Wilks had tried flushing a turtle he had found outside the gate and flooded the boy's lavatory. Lenora Snyder had peed herself during a maths quiz, but no one else knew, so he had better not spread it around. Dudley had gotten himself sent to the Headmistress for copying another student's homework. Oh, and Marci Lamb had kissed Timothy Wells on the cheek after school! Of course, the final story was all about how her eldest sister had brought her boyfriend round to meet the family.

"He's such a stuffy pill. Who names their kid Bron? That's a name for one of those baddies in Lenny's comics. And he acts like one too! Really, he looked like he had smelled cat poo when my mum offered him to stay for dinner. I don't know what Amanda sees in someone like that." Harry laughed then, his first real laugh of the day, and nodded along, an appreciation for his friend warming him.

After school, even though she didn't ask, Harry walked Abigail all the way home. He unfortunately did not catch a glance of the baddy Bron, but he did get to meet her mother, Ayako Moss. She was a beautiful Japanese woman who spoke English very well. Abigail only had to translate or provide the correct word a couple times. She had smiled proudly when her mother complimented Harry on being a good friend and walking her ' _Abby_ ' home.

He had awkwardly accepted her invitation for tea. Uncomfortably, he kicked off his shoes and accepted a spare pair of slippers. Following Abigail through the house, he found himself openly staring at the Japanese scrolls and artwork. Although the exterior of the house perfectly mimicked the neighborhood, the inside felt as if he had stepped foot through a doorway in the world room right into Japan. Inside, the house was very open and modest, with a large set of sliding wooden doors beside the modern kitchen. Abigail whispered for him to remove his shoes before stepping on the tatami.

He found himself fumbling again, to the giggles of the five Moss girls, as he tried to follow Abigail's example. Blushing when their mother scolded them in her mother tongue, he let Abigail drag him down beside her at the low table already prepared for tea. He was then formally introduced to Abigail's four sisters, eldest to youngest: Amanda, Ami, Arisa, and Aneira. Then their mother had proudly patted her slightly swollen belly, declaring he could meet her son in a few months.

"Mama, you don't know it'll be a boy," Arisa laughed, pointing to her sisters. "More likely another girl to torture our father."

"A mother always knows, Arisa. Do not question a mother's intuition," Ayako nodded sagely with finality. The girls all smiled secretly to one another, but did not comment again. "And what of you, Potter-kun? Do you have any siblings?"

An hour later, culture shocked and 'girl-ed' out for the day, Harry finally bid his farewell and ran home. Apologizing profusely to Jo and Poppy for being late, he finally felt himself relax when the former waved it off with a small smile, and Poppy enthusiastically shoved a plate under his nose. He told them all about the Moss family and their home. Jo and Poppy listened attentively, peppering him with a few questions. Jo suggested perhaps they should buy the Moss family a gift, telling him it was proper (In Japan) to bring a gift as thanks for allowing him into the house. Harry blushed in embarrassment, hoping he hadn't insulted the family with his lack of a gift.

"Obviously, Mrs. Moss wasn't too worried, but we should still send something to show your gratitude properly." Jo shrugged then, pouring herself a small amount of whiskey into a tumbler while Poppy clucked her tongue. "I wanted to show you something, by the way. Once you're done with your homework, come up to the third floor."

Harry wrinkled his nose, already pulling his work from the messenger bag. "The floor with all the books?"

Jo shot him a couple finger guns with a playful smirk. "Tha's the one. Be there or be square." Then she was gone, the great dane and small terrier on her heels as she vanished through the vines. Rolling his eyes with a smile, Harry turned to start on his homework as Poppy cleaned the kitchen.

* * *

Jo lounged in a large comfortable recliner, the muggle chair having been a favorite of her grandfather's in his old age. "Bless those muggles and their imaginations," he had sighed once, sipping on an old muggle-brand whiskey. Merlin knows he had spent many nights in this exact chair, spinning tales of old before her eyes, encouraging her explorations into the wild. Merlin knows how many nights he had spent in this exact chair, being scolded by her mother for filling her head with such fantasies. He would always wink at her, smiling secretly with her and reassuring her that Dabria was merely being a stuffy old witch who had lost her sense of adventure.

Her soul felt old in this room, sitting in this chair, staring at the world tree painted on the wall. It was too large, after centuries of her family's procreation. She had 'scrolled' it up, so that it stopped at her own name and that of her cousins. Draining her glass, she poured herself yet another.

Finally, she head Harry yell her name, and she called out her location. He appeared through the vines, confused, but smiling lightly once he saw her. She beckoned him in, and he sat on one of the many lounge chairs. "This used to be my Grandfather Julius's favorite room. He called it the 'family' room," she indicated the mural of the tree with a blank face. "For obvious reason, the title stuck. Presumptuous of us to use that tree, I know, but," she shrugged in a 'What can you do?' style. "There it is. The entire Delacroix family. All of my ancestors from me all the way back to the first record of our line."

She waved her hand, causing the tree to begin scrolling rapidly all the way to the top, where a picture of a man and woman sat, the very beginning of her line. Their names were Merlin and Niviane. Harry watched with wide eyes as she scrolled the tree back down, stopping once again at her generation. "Wizards…"Jo began slowly, pausing to once again sip at her tumbler. "Are very keen on remembering their bloodline, usually with family trees of a sort and many records. Purebloods, which is what my family and your father's family are considered, are very arrogant and obsessive over knowing their entire family history."

Jo sighed, causing Harry to look at her in confusion again as she re-righted her chair into a proper sitting position. "Remember that old witch yesterday?"

"The scary old lady?"

"Yup, that's the one." She waved her wand, summoning the now enlarged box from the desk. "She gave me this. I gave it a once over, just to make sure there weren't any surprises. It's for you." She let the box down gently in front of him, waving for him to open it.

Harry gave Jo another curious glance before gently opening the cardboard flaps. Inside, at the very top of a large stack of books and rolls of parchment, was one leather black book stamped with a seal of a shield topped with a knight's helmet. The name _'Potter'_ engraved in gold along the cover. "Is this…" He opened the top book, reading the name Linfred of Stinchcombe 'The Potterer'. "This is my family history, isn't it?," He asked excitedly as he began thumbing through the small journal. Jo just smiled, nodding along as he dug out the next book. This one was dedicated to a man named Hardwin.

"Well, this is the family room. I figured it's the best place for your own family history to be kept safe." Harry looked up in surprise, smiling even wider when she indicated the empty book case behind him. "If you would like, we can begin building your family's record keeping here."

"I-I would really like that."

"Perfect, well why don't we start shelving these bad boys." She went to wave her wand, but Harry stopped her, blushing when she raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

"I'd rather do it, y'know," he shrugged, picking up a book and walking it over to the shelves, gently placing it in its new home. "Feel like I'm respecting them more, this way."

Standing with a groan of exhaustion, Jo gave him a smirk as she levitated the box closer to the bookcase. "Fine, be a Gryffindor about it. Leave one out, though. Figure we can start reading them tonight, yeah?"

* * *

For the following two weeks, Harry found himself smiling and laughing every day more and more. His school days were always good. Without Dudley looming over him, he found school to be a lot more pleasant of an experience. After school, he would walk Abigail home. Her older sisters always made kissy faces and giggled at them, causing Abigail to scowl and yell at them. He just always blushed and ruffled his hair in embarrassment until he could leave. Her mother had given him an uncomfortably tight hug and kissed his cheek when he presented her with his gift of tea biscuits and chocolate covered berries.

The best part of every day, though, was when he and Jo would settle on his bed at the end of each night and read one of the Potter journals. Linfred of Stinchcombe, the first record of his line, had been a potioneer. His eldest son, Hardwin, had been a magical historian. Jo had made a strange choking noise when she read about his wife, Lolanthe Peverell. She had explained the Peverells were an old family the rest of the wizarding world had believed died out. Obviously, Harry was one of the last with their blood in his veins.

As he walked Abigail home that day, he couldn't help the excitement at returning home. Jo had promised they could go flying today. He had gotten much better on the broom, and she had promised to release some of the restriction to allow him another three feet of height. Plus, they would be starting on a new journal tonight.

"Did I tell you that Lenny called me last night?" Abigail asked, skipping through the puddles and splashing mud all over her white knee-high socks. "He said his mum had found a job at his new school as a secretary, and they should be able to find their own place soon. Said his cousins are all loud and won't leave his things alone, too, so I'm sure he's excited to have a quiet room all to himself."

Harry chuckled, thinking their quiet friend would definitely prefer that. "Make sure you get his address then. I haven't gotten a letter from him yet, maybe I should send one first?" Abigail nodded, but didn't respond. She had focused on something up ahead, a scowl tugging deeply at her lips.

"Looks like Baddy Bron is here." She huffed greatly, her skips turning into stomps as they neared her house. Harry squinted his eyes, trying to make out the lanky boy entwined with her sister Amanda. He could see the other two sisters in the doorway, making faces at the distracted pair. "See you tomorrow, Harry."

"Yeah, see you." Harry turned away quickly, hoping to escape any embarrassment from her sisters' antics today. He caught Abigail's disgust laced 'Oy, no one wants to see _that_!' before he started jogging across the road. He didn't stop the accelerated pace until number 6, Sanitatum Drive finally came into view.

Bursting through the door, he took the stairs two at a time with a growing smile as he ran to the kitchen. He nearly fell through the vines in his excitement, earning a surprised squeak from Poppy. "Good afternoon, Poppy." The she-elf wagged her finger at him good-naturedly before returning to her cooking. "Hello, Young Harry. How was yous school today?"

"Good, I got full marks on my maths quiz!"

"Oh, that be wonderful! Poppy will make treacle tart for after dinner!"

Finally, Harry took notice of Jo's lack of presence. Taffy, as he had named the labrador who seemed to always find him, was the only dog in the kitchen. He smiled brightly, leaning down to give her a strong scratch behind the ears. "Hullo, Taffy. Did you miss me?" She wiggled under his attention, her mouth opening in a doggy smile as she gave one affirmative woof. Even though he was used to their presence, Taffy was the only dog he had become comfortable with. Which, seeing as she had quickly taken on the role of his second shadow, seemed to be best. "Where's Jo, girl? She's usually here when I come home."

"Oh, Mistress says she not be feeling well, Young Harry. She says she be staying in her room today," Poppy squeaked, hoping her voice didn't sound strained. Her tongue tasted like ash as the lie fell from her lips. Her Mistress had actually disappeared some time during the morning and had not returned until nearly an hour ago, falling down drunk. She had snapped at Poppy to leave her be and disappeared within her bedroom. The elf thought it best to keep Young Harry away until her Mistress sobered. "Young Harry should wash his hands before dinner."

Harry looked disappointed by Jo's missing presence, meaning he wouldn't be flying today. With a pout, he nodded and went off to wash his hands and change from his school clothes. Taffy, the ever loyal hound, trotted after him.

Poppy tried to cheer him up during dinner, even offering to supervise his flying if he wished. He had just shaken his head, saying it was something he liked to do with Jo. After dinner and his celebratory treacle tart, which didn't taste nearly as good as usual, he retired to his bedroom to begin his homework.

The next morning, Jo wasn't in the kitchen, and she didn't appear during the hour before Harry had to leave for school. For the first time since he had arrived, Harry walked by himself to school. Abigail had noticed his pouty demeanor instantly, pestering him until he finally told her that Jo was sick. She said her sister Aneira was home that day with the flu, maybe Jo had caught the bug. Her mother had forced soup and herbal tea down her throat. Perhaps he should make Jo some soup? Maybe her mum had some left that he could have.

When he returned home that evening, with a container of soup, he was surprised to see Jo slumped over the table in the muggle house. She had looked up at him with glassy and red eyes, groaning an unintelligible response and promptly laid her head back on the table. He had given her a shake, suggesting she go to bed, but she didn't stir again. Concerned, he had ran up the stairs to find Poppy. The elf had sighed, clucking her tongue with a frustrated expression and disappeared. When she reappeared in the kitchen, she reassured him that Jo was in bed, and she would take her dinner in a little while.

They didn't read together that night either.

This pattern continued for the next seven days. On the third day, Harry finally realized that Jo was not sick. She was drunk. The few occasions he did see her over those days, she always had cold words for Poppy and told him to leave her be. Even her dogs had stopped surrounding her after she had lashed out and screamed for them to leave her alone.

"You know Lenny's dad," Harry started, pushing his peas around his lunch tray. "Do you think he always beat him when he drank?"

Abigail gave him a strange look at his question, putting her fork down with more force than necessary. "What kind of question is that?"

Harry gave her a frown, putting his own spoon down. "Do you think he was always that way or do you think he changed the longer he drank?"

Something, perhaps in his eyes or his expression, made Abigail realize that Harry had a very real reason to be wondering about such a terrible thing. She gave him another deep frown, shrugging as she pulled her bag up onto the table. "I don't know, really. But-" She trailed off, rooting through the chaos of paper and books. With a little 'Ah-ha', she uncrumpled and flattened the pamphlet they had been given weeks ago at the 'SAY NO' assembly. "Maybe this will help?" They both leaned over the paper, reading the paragraph about alcoholism.

 _Alcoholism or Alcohol use disorder is a potentially fatal disease, characterized by cravings, tolerance (needing more), physical dependence, and loss of control over consuming alcohol. Alcohol intoxication may or may not be obvious to observers. Even in highly functional alcohol abusers, chronic alcoholism can lead to physical problems. Most common is damage to your liver, which over time can lead to cirrhosis (scarred liver). Other risks include depression, stomach bleeds, pancreatitis, high blood pressure, heart failure, numbness and tingling in your feet and changes in your brain. Alcoholism can also increase your risk for infections including pneumonia, tuberculosis, and chronic gastritis._

"My mum said Lenny's dad is what's called an Alcoholic," Abigail said quietly, realizing that Harry, who looked horrified by the pamphlet, definitely had a really bad reason to be asking about this. She wanted to ask him who it was that he was worried about, but she never got the chance as they're lunch ended. Harry had basically sprinted from the room, looking both sick and angry. She decided they could discuss it after school.

* * *

Poppy sighed deeply, vanishing the puke from her Mistress' bed and sending the sheets out of the room. As she began dressing the bed in clean linen, ears low and drooping, her mind wondered as to where her Mistress could have gone. Since the first day of this current binge, she had remained home. Poppy was not ignorant, she knows what today is, what memory this date holds, but she didn't know where her Mistress could have gone. She had already checked every floor of the house, even the yard. Next, she had gone to the graveyard, but her Mistress was not among the people there. Then she had gone to Miss Katherine's. She hadn't seen or heard from her Mistress since October.

Her Mistress was drunk, sad, and missing. Poppy's only hope now was that her Mistress would summon her or come home before Young Harry returned. The elf had, rather naively, hoped he would be enough to keep her Mistress semi-controlled when this day came. It seems that had been a foolhardy wish.

She continued on with her daily chores, her nerves itching with each hour that passed without a sign of her Mistress. Finally, the clock chimed, signaling it was time for her to start dinner. Which meant Young Harry would be home very soon. Her heart hurt as she thought of the increasingly melancholy boy. What would she tell him today? She knew he had realized her Mistress was not sick. Even still, she did not know how to explain the witch's disappearance. She decided, unless he specifically asked, all she would say is that her Mistress was out.

Hopefully, after today, they would return to normal.

* * *

"Is it Jo?" Abigail had whispered the question, but it sounded like a booming echo in his own head. He nodded grimly, kicking a rock along as they walked. "Has…has she hurt you?"

"No," he shook his head, almost insulted she would ask such a thing. Until he remembered Lenny's dad. "No, she's never done anything to me. She's just been drunk for the last week. I mean, she always drinks, but usually at night." He shrugged, thinking maybe he wasn't supposed to say that. "Maybe I'm just over thinking it, you know, after Lenny's dad."

Abigail didn't look convinced. "You should tell someone if it gets worse." Harry started to shake his head. "No, listen. Lenny was lucky, he had his Mum there to take him away. You don't have someone else, right?" Harry looked angry, but shook his head that, no, he didn't have someone else. "Then you _have_ to tell someone if it gets worse. Okay?"

Sighing, Harry ruffled his hair and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Promise me, Harry." She stopped walking, jabbing her hand towards him with her pinky held out. "Promise me you'll tell." She stared him down, her jaw jutting out stubbornly as her big blue eyes swam with concern. Harry gave her a serious nod and shook her pinky with his. "I promise."

"Good."

* * *

Jo stared into the black and frothing waters way down below. She had learned her lesson, falling and swaying too much to remain unbothered, and had sat herself on the wet planks of wood. It was raining, drizzling now, but the storming had caused the water to foam and bulk violently. The waves crashed against the thin legs of the pier. She thought the water matched her mind, chaotic and dark.

A dark part of her, the piece that usually went away when she drank, was whispering it wouldn't be so bad if she just…jumped. _It's only a little way_ , it whispered. She agreed, the water wasn't actually that far. It would be cold, though. Plus, she wasn't that great of a swimmer, especially drunk. _You don't really need to swim, though. You could just let the waves carry you._

She didn't know why she came here. Every year, she ended up on this pier, contemplating looking at the ocean floor. Every year, she ended up alive and breathing at home. It was the curse, she knew. It wouldn't let her jump. Won't let her leave. She chuckled dryly, taking a long drink from the bottle in a brown bag. Why did she come back here?

"Because this is where we met." That's what he said all those years ago, down on one knee in the snow.

Right, she thought. This is the only place she could go. She wasn't allowed to visit their final resting place. It felt like she had cried enough tears today to fill the ocean twice over, but it seems her eyes weren't done yet. His coffee colored eyes and coal hair, that crooked smiled with his jagged tooth just encouraged the fresh wave of tears.

They had come back here once after that day. Stupid and young, they wanted a picture with their _new_ little family on the place where it all began. It had been nice that day, full of people. She could still remember the old gentleman, his bowler hat and salt and pepper mustache that devoured his upper lip. He had smiled brightly when they asked if he would mind ever so much to take their picture.

She had hidden it away, with all the others, in a sealed box under the floorboards of the muggle house.

Her tears felt cold yet hot as they trailed over her skin and dripped from her chin, falling down down down to feed the raging ocean below. She watched as each drop disappeared into the foam. _You could jump_ , the darkness whispered again. "Oh, shut up. We both know that's bullshit."

The sun had begun to set. Even in the cloudy, despair ridden sky, she supposed it looked pretty. It irritated her. Nothing was supposed to be pretty or nice or _good_ today. Today was meant to be filled with tears and ugly and _bad._ All the bad she pushed down down down inside.

She drank from the bottle again, hoping it would make the sun look as ugly as her soul.

* * *

Harry heard the moment Jo came home. She had crashed in her landing from the portkey, slumping against the wall with a grunt of frustration. He fiddled with the paper in his hands, taking a deep breath as nervousness and anger warred against each other inside his stomach. When he heard the crash of glass being broken, the anger began to win out. Standing on shaky knees, he left the little table to find her still slumped against the stairs.

"Jo."

She grunted, lolling her head around to stare at him with a blank face. "What are you still doing up?" Her voice was cold and flat, and her words slurred.

"I was waiting for you to come home. I thought you might want to read with me tonight." Harry tried not to flinch under her dead eyes. She didn't respond, except for another grunt. "Where've you been? Poppy and I were worried."

Jo snorted, smirking ever so slightly. "That's none of your concern. As for Poppy, she knows better than to worry. Especially today."

"What's today?" Harry could tell he was toeing the line of Jo being reasonable when her eyes narrowed. She exhaled loudly through her nose, like a bull. "What's so special about today that you get to disappear and-"

"That is none of your damn business," Jo snarled, her blue eyes turning crystalline with rage.

Harry felt his shoulders begin to rise, but held himself firm. When he opened his mouth, Jo snarled again and pushed off the wall. Remaining silent, Harry watched as she wobbled and used the wall to support herself as she moved past him. "You haven't been around much, Jo. Poppy said you were sick, but I knew you were just drunk. You're the one that said we're family. If I'm really your family, then I deserve to know what's going on!"

"You don't understand anything about this. You're a child, stop putting your nose in adult business," she snarled, whipping around drunkenly to glare at the small boy. Harry glared back, those green eyes like fire as his hands curled into fists and his shoulders rose around his ears. For the first time in his life, he could recognize and feel the magic flowing in his veins, responding to his anger.

"I know enough." He declared stubbornly, that small adolescent voice strong and unwavering as he planted himself strongly in front of her. At that moment, he looked just like James Potter before he was about to yell at her for being an asshole . And for some reason, that just pissed her off even more.

She chuckled cruelly, humorlessly smirking down at him. "Please do tell, _kid_." She waved sarcastically, giving him the floor.

Harry felt anger burn through his veins at her mocking tone. She was being cruel and _mean_. Just like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, just like Lenny's dad. Beneath his raging anger and indignation, the heavy stone of disappointment dropped in his stomach. "You're just like all the rest," Harry sneered, and Jo blinked in surprise. She had never seen him make such a face. "Cold, cruel, and _mean_. Treating people terribly because you're upset. Unhappy all the time, but you try to hide it behind mean words and ignoring everyone. You drink your alcohol, just like Lenny's dad. An alcoholic, that's what Abigail said he was. I got a pamphlet about people like you, and what drinking does to your body. I always thought you were sick, I just never knew it was you choosing to be sick." The crumpled and obviously well-read pamphlet landed at her feet. 'SAY NO', printed in large red ink, stared back at her.

"You don't come to breakfast anymore. You're usually too hung-over when I come home from school to even speak to me. You snap at Poppy and the dogs all the time. You don't take me flying or want to read those books you gave me at night anymore." Harry's voice started to grow quiet, he felt pathetic admitting her lack of presence was hurting him. "You don't even walk me to school anymore. You've done that every day since I came here."

Jo felt ashamed, how could she not, when an eight year old was literally laying all of her transgressions at her feet. He looked so _hurt._ She wanted to apologize, to fall down and grovel at his feet for forgiveness.

But another part of her, the darkness the alcohol usually kept at bay, was creeping back in. It had felt stronger, more alluring, than ever before. It was whispering to her, consoling her from the strong words cutting into her heart. _He's only a boy, he doesn't understand. You've lost so much, yet here he is demanding more of you? Demanding all of your care and attention. Demanding you to give even more of what little bit of self you have left?_

"I doubt me walking you to school is that important. No one ever did before," Jo scoffed again, taking a sip from her flask. "Don't act like that's a crime now."

Harry looked like he had struck been stuck. "THAT'S BECAUSE NO ONE EVER TRIED TO BEFORE! YOU-" Tears streamed heavily from his eyes, and he shook his head aggressively. "You're being an arsehole, Jo."

"Don't talk like you're an adult." Jo snapped at him. "And don't sit here and think you can lecture me on what I am or am not doing. You're the kid, here. What, you don't like me anymore? You don't like living here anymore? Realized maybe you should've stayed with those fucking muggles? The ones who beat you and treated you like dirt?"

"AT LEAST THEY DIDN'T PRETEND TO CARE!"

"FUCKING EXCUSE ME?! I AM NOT PRETENDING TO CARE ABOUT YOU!"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU BEING THIS WAY?! WHY ARE YOU DRINKING AND DISAPPEARING AND TREATING US LIKE THIS?!"

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING ABOUT THIS, KID!"

"BECAUSE YOU WON'T TELL ME **ANYTHING**!"

Two things happened then as they glared at each other, words made of fire ready to be spat back and forth. First, Jo's flask flew from her hand and lodged itself into the front door, and then, the little table they usually sat at exploded into small wooden splinters. Harry let out a yell, crumbling into a ball to hide from the loud noise. Jo just stumbled against the wall with wide-eyes. Her magic felt like a rock slide inside, tumbling and fighting to explode from within her. Her drunken mind tried to contain it, shocked by the exploding table that _she_ had caused, but she could feel the magic beginning to seep from her pores. She had just enough sense left to shield the kid with a well placed protection shield.

Then all hell truly broke loose.

A bright yellow light erupted from the drunk witch, her magic manifesting itself around her in jagged waves and explosions as she screamed. " **POPPY! GET HARRY AWAY, NOW!** " Her words quickly turned into ear jarring guttural screams. The small elf appeared with a pop, her large grey eyes wide and fearful as she tried to get through the maelstrom of magical winds and over the shifting floor to the small boy. Harry looked on in a shocked awe, equally fearful yet amazed by the feeling of Jo's raw magic convulsing around him.

Jagged columns of earth began shooting up through the floor, spiking into the ceiling and walls. Pictures began falling and smashing onto the ground as the walls shook. A water pipe from below the house came through with the invading earth, blasting water everywhere in the den. The glass in the windows began to crack and shatter as the house groaned under the magical chaos. Through this all, Jo screamed and screamed and **screamed** ; her eyes unseeing as she held her head within her hands, face pressed against the floor.

Poppy finally reached the boy, disapparating him instantly to the safety of the magical household above. The sudden quiet shocked them both, disorienting the two small beings. Falling to a heap on the floor, Harry gasped in a breath, realizing he hadn't been able to breathe under the pressure of Jo's magic. "Poppy!" The small elf squeaked, sitting up and rubbing her head. Her mistress's magic had given her a migraine. "Poppy, we have to help Jo!"

Harry tried to stand, but stumbled, falling back to his bum as he clumsily scrambled back into a crawling position. "Jo needs help!," he yelled, seeing the elf hadn't moved. Poppy looked dazed, still rubbing her head with glazed eyes. "Mistress…" The elf's grey eyes sharpened suddenly and she focused on the small boy. "Mistress said to get Young Harry out. Poppy must keep Young Master safe."

"B-but Jo-" Harry felt his heart beating against his chest, loud and fast, and he breathed quickly as panic finally set in. "Jo's gonna get hurt! Poppy-"

"No, Young Harry," Poppy snapped with authority. Harry froze instinctively, still trying to crawl back towards the stairs. "Mistress must control her magic, Young Harry. She can not do's this with us interferings." Poppy looked widely at the staircase when a large rock exploded through the top stairs. "Mistress will control it." She snapped her fingers, and the staircase suddenly disappeared, replaced by a large door Harry had never seen before. She had closed the veil. Her mistress will remain trapped to the muggle house until her magic exhausted itself or she regained control.

"P-Poppy," fear began to set in for Harry as his panic began to subside. "Wh-what's happening to Jo?"

The elf could see the boy's fear, and she could understand his question went beyond the explosion of magic they had witnessed. She shuffled closer to the boy, reaching out to grip his hand within her own, trying to squeeze comfort through her fingers. "My Mistress is at war with herself. Sh-" The boy looked surprised by the large crocodile tears that formed in the she-elf's eyes. He had never seen Poppy upset enough to cry. "She must fix her broken pieces, Young Harry. Her heart, mind, and magic are not in sync no more."

"But why?" Poppy looked torn, crying and sniffling, as she bit her lip in contemplation.

"Because Mistress lost herself when she lost her loved ones in the war, Young Harry. My Mistress went to war, and her body comes back, but not her soul. That not be the Mistress Poppy raised." The she-elf stopped then, to keep herself from revealing too much without her Mistress's permission, and because she had the sudden urge to sob and wail. Her Mistress's distressed magic could be felt through their bond, and it _hurt_ the small elf's heart. It made her small body feel heavier and older as she willed herself to take Young Harry back to the kitchen for hot chocolate.

* * *

Jo laid panting on the floor, in the center of the wreckage and chaos she had committed. Her throat felt shredded and raw, and her eyes were swollen nearly shut. She tried to lick her chapped and split lips, but there was no moisture on her tongue. Her magic had burned the alcohol from her system. The cold icy fingers of the darkness had clawed its way across her chest, leaving her chilled and shaking. Her entire body _hurt_. It felt weak and useless. She was sure she couldn't even lift a finger in that moment.

More than the physical pain, her heart was plagued with the weight of shame and guilt. Regret for her harsh words and actions. A tear burned its way across her eyelid and down the raw skin of her cheek. Drawing another shaky breath, she let her and Harry's words roll around her brain, dissecting each syllable for the words they had left unspoken.

She had hurt him. _Disappointed_ him. She had broken her promises. She was still broken, even more of a disaster than when he had first appeared in this house. His life was probably worse now. She had _cared_ about him, then tossed it right back in his face. That was even worse than anything the Dursley's had ever done. Her face burned with more fire-laced tears at the realization that she was a monster, actually. It was a bit ironic, she thought, that after the happiest few weeks of her life in nearly eight years, she had drastically gone in the exact opposite direction of fixing herself or him. "I'm a fucking mess." Merlin, her voice sounded like a dying bullfrog with dragonpox. "A fucking piece of living shit in skin."

Broken and useless on the floor, her magic betraying her and nearly bringing down the house. She couldn't help but think this is exactly what she deserved. Now, the kid knew exactly how destroyed she was, unreliable and useless. He still didn't understand, but that was her own fault. Just like he said, she hadn't explained anything to him. She hid it all in her bottles, even from herself. How could she describe to him the pain she forced herself to forget?

Poppy had retrieved her sometime later, biting her tongue as her Mistress sobbed and shook on the floor. She commanded Poppy to just leave her, she deserved to stay here. In the destruction she had caused. With a self-deprecating smirk and hollow laugh, she mumbled that the house _finally_ resembled her soul.

Poppy slapped her, probably as hard as her little body could, but Jo was numb to the physical pain of it. She still felt the shame, though. Finally, she relented, and let the elf apparate them to her bedroom. The elf forced a dreamless sleep potion down her throat, and she was dead to the world. Poppy stayed at her side, cleaning the tear marks and dirt from her face as she cried for her Mistress. She had sent Young Harry to bed already, slipping a drop of the sleeping potion in his hot chocolate as well. When she was finally calm and satisfied with her Mistress' clean face, she left her side.

And promptly dumped all of the alcohol in the house down the sink.


	11. Chapter 11 Contention

**Hot damn, you people are amazing. I've had so many e-mails this last week, and I just couldn't stop smiling. Y'all made my week, guys.**

 **preiestessedgecombe: That's a fucking brilliant idea, I'm a little jealous of it actually. However, Miss Jo is gonna have to get clean the hard way. Through her own willpower, and learning her lesson.**

 **Justareader21: Hope I'm still keeping your faith up.**

 **FALLING-ANGEL24: Your reviews legitimately always make me laugh. And damn straight Jo needs a coming to Jesus/Merlin meeting.**

 **Anyways, Thank you again for all the support.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

 **Contention**

* * *

 **"I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn't have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn't make for an interesting person. I didn't want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone. On the other hand, when I got drunk I screamed, went crazy, got all out of hand. One kind of behavior didn't fit the other. I didn't care." -Charles Bukowski, _Women_**

* * *

Harry sat quietly beside Jo's bed, bent over his homework with Taffy curled around his back. He sighed, rubbing his eyes as the numbers began to blur across the page. He had been sitting here for hours, distractedly working through equations that should have only taken him an hour tops. Taffy whined, setting her head on his knee. Grimacing, he abandoned the schoolwork in favor of running his fingers through her soft fur.

Another canine whine filled the quiet room. Turning his head, he saw that the occupants of the bed had not moved since the last time he had looked. The rest of the dog pack were sprawled across Jo's sleeping form, cocooning her within as they periodically whined and generally looked despondent. All he could see of Jo was her ashen face, set in a neutral expression as she continued to sleep.

Poppy had told him she would probably not awaken today, that she needed a lot of sleep after her magical explosion. "Wasting magic be terrible business, Young Harry. Mistress will need much rest and peace." He had begged her to let him stay home from school, worried that Jo would wake up while he was gone. The elf had been firm, sending him on his way with multiple reassurances that Jo would only sleep. It appears she had been correct. 'As always,' he could imagine Jo saying with that small smile of hers.

He really wanted to see her smile right now. It's been days since he had seen it, and after last night…. Harry really needed Jo to wake up. He needed to apologize. It was his fault she had become so upset. When the magic had exploded from her body, Harry could see how afraid she had been. How she had been in so much pain. And for what? All because he didn't stop _pushing_ even when he knew he should have.

He was still incredibly angry with Jo, disappointed that she had treated him like every other adult. That she had kept her secrets and her pain from him. His heart still hurt when he thought of her cold eyes and harsh words. Yet, there was a bigger part still, it held on to the Jo she had been before the last week. It gripped onto the memories of her smiles and smirks, her dry chuckles and raspy voice. To the fact that Jo had always told him the truth about his life and his parents. That she had let him stay and called him family.

Yes, Harry was angry and disappointed, but all of those feelings fell short of the desperation he felt for her to wake up and crack a tiny smile with crinkled eyes.

Rubbing his eyes again, he gave his shoulders a quick shake to wake himself up, and picked up the paper full of math equations.

* * *

Harry woke with a start, dazed and confused by the sound of panicked voices. The dogs were all whining and barking, pacing anxiously around him on the floor. Blinking rapidly, he stood up to find a woman he didn't know and Poppy leaning over Jo's bed. Jo remained in the center, her body still and eyes closed. He would have thought nothing had changed since the last time he had looked, if it wasn't for the telltale stain of blood around her mouth. A fresh trail of it leaked from her nose, over her cheek and onto the sheet below.

"We have to take her to Mungo's, Poppy. She needs to see a healer!" The unknown woman waved her wand jerkily, clearing the blood from Jo's nose, but her eyes widened when a fresh, heavier trail began gushing out. Jo's skin had turned terribly pale, and her body began to shake, convulsing violently on top the bed.

The elf shook, wringing her hands with worry. Her head was bobbing around hectically as she changed between nodding yes and shaking no. "Poppy knows, Poppy _knows_ , but Mistress always sai-"

"Jo's not going to be able to say much of anything again if we don't leave _**now**_ _!_ " The blonde woman waved her wand much wider this time, and Jo stilled before lifting from the bed, levitating a few inches above the mattress. Her hair fell in a knotted mess of waves, and her arms hung unnaturally. Harry thought she really did look dead.

"What's wrong with Jo?"

The woman and elf froze for only a moment, locking their eyes on the small boy they had forgotten was asleep on the floor. Katherine, understanding her responsibility was Jo and not the small child, returned her attention on removing the _dying_ witch from the room. Poppy walked across the bed, hopping down to stand beside Harry as the strange woman left with Jo floating along behind her.

"Mistress is sick, Young Harry-"

"You've said that before. What's wrong, Poppy? Really?" Harry gave the elf a pleading look, begging her with his eyes to please just tell him the truth. The elf audibly swallowed, her ears twitching and hands wringing themselves tightly.

"Mistress b-b-be-" Suddenly, Poppy let out a loud groan that Harry realized, when she threw herself around him in a tight embrace, was a sob. "-Mistress be dying! Her magic not coming back, and her body be very very sick!"

Harry felt the breath leave his body, her words a punch to his gut, and he fell against her. His heart sped up and stopped beating simultaneously. But he didn't get to process the words any further. The woman was yelling for them to hurry, they needed to leave. Poppy gripped his hand with hers, and drug him from the room with speed. Katherine had maneuvered Jo's body into a fireman's hold on her back to fit inside the floo. Once the elf and child had come into view, she threw the powder down and yelled "St. Mungo's" clearly. Harry didn't have time to be surprised when she swirled away in the green fire. Poppy pulled him into the fireplace beside her, and suddenly they were off, squeezing through grate upon grate until they were spat out on a white linoleum floor.

"I NEED A HEALER NOW! SHE'S DYING!" There was a new flurry of movement, an organized chaos as men and women clad in green and white robes descended on Jo's body. Harry and Poppy rushed forward, peeking through the gaps of elbows to try and see what was happening. Then they were leaving, Jo being wheeled along with them through large double doors. He strained his eyes, trying to watch where they were going before the doors stopped swinging.

Finally, it was silent.

Harry stared at the doors, his insides cold and numb, while his mind only allowed the one focus. Jo went through those doors, which meant that's where she would have to come back out. So even when Poppy and the strange woman had drug him back, forcing him to sit in an uncomfortable chair; his eyes never left those swinging brown doors.

* * *

"My name's Katherine." Harry glanced up at the blonde woman, accepting the cup of hot chocolate she was offering him. His eyes were drooping with exhaustion, and his face was pale, causing those green eyes of his to practically glow. "And I know that you're Harry." He nodded, blinking slowly at her before glancing back towards the door. Thankfully, a healer had finally updated them after nearly three hours, and the boy had _finally_ stopped staring at the door with the intensity of a dragon.

"You were Jo's friend…in the picture." Katherine glanced at him in surprise. He hadn't spoken a word since they had arrived in the hospital. "You were the one making funny faces." She smiled lightly, knowing exactly which picture he was referring to.

"Yes, I believe that had been our fifth year. Jo and I were in school together, same house." Smiling sadly, she pulled the old worn scarf from beneath her jacket. The yellow and black yarn had faded in color, but any Hogwarts alumni would recognize it in an instant.

"Hufflepuff."

Katherine nodded again, clearing her throat as an awkwardness settled around them. "Yes. Your parents were of course Gryffindor. Do you know which house you would like to be in?"

"Gryffindor."

"Oh? Jo hasn't converted you to the ways of the badger yet?" He didn't smile, just shook his head. His eyes began to wonder back towards the door, and she knew she was losing his interest. "My oldest daughter, Madison, is hellbent on being a Hufflepuff. She's almost your age, so she'll be a year behind you in Hogwarts. My son, though, already runs around like a proud little Gryffindor. He's three, so you won't be seeing him in your common room until you're nearly done with school." She knew she was rambling, it was actually quite easy to do once she started talking about her children, but he was looking at her again, which was good. "My other daughter, she's five, we're not quite sure where she'll end up. Although, she's the worst so far with her accidental magic. Just this morning, she had turned the entire house, furniture and all, bright purple. My husband had to floo me for help, he was in a right state over it too."

Harry thought she was a very pretty lady, especially with the warm smile that had pulled at her lips as she talked about her family. She sounded like she very much loved them. "What about your husband? What house was he in?"

"Oh, William was a Gryffindor, of course. A year behind your parents. He bloody idolized your father as a child." She caught the smile he tried to hide by ducking his head, and the awkwardness in her chest began to lift. "Your mother, though, terrified the dickens out of him. Actually, she terrified a lot of us when she was angry. Her hair would do this thing," she motioned around her head, making him chuckle. "And magic would just _spark_ around her. Usually, it was always aimed at your father and his friends, but it made the rest of us scared enough to keep our toes in line. She was a prefect, and let me tell you, that woman took the title very seriously. Which worked out seeing as she was named Head Girl in her Seventh year."

Pride for his mum filled him, making him sit up straighter and turn to fully face the older woman. "What about Jo?"

It was probably in bad taste, seeing as her friend was currently in a critical state in this hospital, but Katherine really couldn't contain the snort of amusement, even if she had tried. "Jo would have melted the prefect badge and laughed in the professors' faces. She was bloody rotten in school. Always sneaking out, messing around with magic and spells well above our education. She was scary smart, though. Still is, I'd wager. A brain like hers never quits."

He looked conflicted, biting his lip and ruffling that Potter hair just like his dad. Katherine was almost amazed by how much he resembled James Potter. His eyes were just the wrong color, and he was missing the glasses. She'd wager that if she could get a picture of James at this very age, you wouldn't be able to tell the two apart.

"Would you like me to tell you about her?" He gave her a confused look. "Jo as a child?"

"Was she really so different?"

The mother in her wanted to pull him close, squeeze him tight and fill him with comfort. He looked so small and sad, confused by the world surrounding him. Instead, she patted his knee and gave him a gentle smile. "Yes and no. Jo will always be Jo, she's just missing a few pieces right now. But you want to know what I think?" She had leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. He nodded, frowning and scrunching his eyebrows. "I think, with you beside her, she can find those pieces again."

Harry gave her a disbelieving look, even as a small flicker of hope flared inside his heart. "It's not that easy."

"No, it's not," she agreed, not unkindly. "But the good stuff in life never is." They lapsed into silence then as she let her motherly advice sink in. When his face finally began to clear, and she could see the small sparkle of hope in his green eyes, she spoke again. "I'm guessing Jo never told you the story about the time she had snuck a baby thestral into the school?"

"No! Where in the world did she get one?"

Katherine tapped the side of her nose with a smirk. "Hufflepuff's honor, I swore I'd never tell." Harry looked extremely put out, his bottom lip sticking out slightly in the beginnings of a pout. "But she had found it in the Forbidden Forest when she had snuck out one night to go exploring. First year, mind you. Eleven year old Jo, Harry, was bloody insane."

* * *

Jo did not wake up gently or slowly, her senses coming to her one by one. No, she woke with a sharp breath that felt like fire in her lungs, and shot from the bed into an even more painful sitting position. With a low groan, she bent in half, hiding her pounding head beneath her arms as she squeezed her eyes shut. Merlin, she _hurt_. Her head hurt. Her neck hurt. Her spine and hips, her stomach and chest, her legs and arms, fingers and toes; all of it hurt. Hell, even her ears hurt. Everything fucking throbbed and burned and felt like every bone in her body was breaking.

She tried to inhale, but her skin felt too tight, like it was going to rip from the expansion of her torso. Her inhales turned shallow, and her lungs burned. Whimpering, she tried to peek from one eye -Holy Helga, even her eyelids felt like they were made of cracking stone- and take in her surroundings. The smells in her burning nose told her she most definitely was not at home. She could see white sheets covering her body. Slowly, she moved her arms, letting the bright lights and white walls of St. Mungo's scald her retinas.

With another groan, she covered her head again and let her eyelid fall shut. She fucking hates this place.

"Oh, good, it seems the alarm spell wasn't wrong. Welcome back to the world of the living, Miss Delacroix." Healer Gabriel Nyaga smiled brightly upon entering the room, even though his patient wasn't looking at him. He had always believed a smile could be heard through words. "You gave us all quite the scare, but we were able to stabilize your condition, and put you back on the path to perfect health. And trust me, I know that may seem quite a long ways away, but you will make a full recovery with the plan we have devised specifically for your-"

Jo had begun groaning the moment he began speaking, the pitch steadily rising as he just. Kept. _Talking_. Her fingers pulsed in pain as she curled them into her hair, trying desperately to block out his horrifically chipper voice.

"I know you are in a considerable amount of pain, Miss Delacroix." His smile felt forced now. "Your friend demanded we withhold your pain potions for the time being." Actually, she had threatened his entire staff, shouting about how it would do her good to suffer the consequences of her stupidity. "I can give you this core-nourisher, it should relieve some of the discomfort."

She slowly uncurled from her bent position, just enough to hold her hand out. Something small and round was dropped into her palm. The skin beneath the object felt as if he had stabbed her with a thousand tiny needles. Slowly, she brought her hand back to her face and just stuffed the unknown object in her mouth. It tasted like a swamp and stuck in her throat, but she finally forced it down, leaving her mouth and throat coated in something that suspiciously felt like slug-slime.

"Miss Delacroix, do you know why you're here?" She didn't respond or move, so he silently sighed. Moving around her bed, he sat himself in the visitor chair, one knee crossed over the other. "You depleted your magical core, drastically, which is fatally dangerous. Your house-elf said you had an 'episode' that had lasted for nearly three hours last night." Jo turned her head, peeking through her hair at the dark skinned man. "For a witch of your age, this is almost unheard of. Your magical core, I discovered, is severely atrophied. How long has it been since you last used your magic on a regular basis?"

Whatever he had given her finally began to work. She felt like her skin had suddenly been pumped full of water, and she could breathe without ripping it in half. Ever so slowly, her muscles and bones screaming in protest, she finally released herself back into a sitting position. "Almost eight…years. I've been…using it again…for the last few months." Her tongue felt heavy and lame as she tried to form her words, and her vocal chords stabbed her throat with each sound. "It hasn't…been…a problem."

He sighed audibly this time, rubbing his chin as he inspected her. "No, it wouldn't be. Your core is just like any muscle in your body." He leaned forward then, drawing his eyebrows together as he contemplated how best to describe what was occurring within her body. "Let's say this, every day for almost your entire life, you walk up twenty flights of stairs. Your legs and lungs have always known this routine, and you have become strong enough to complete it without barely any feeling of exertion."

He caught her gaze, waiting for her to give an indication that she was following his explanation. "Then you move, now you live in a house with no stairs. For a whole year you never use a set of stairs. Then, you go somewhere new, and have to walk up ten flights of stairs. At the end, your legs are burning and you're panting for breath, but you were capable of doing it. Your magical core is just the same. It was strong and capable of completing many spells in a day. Then, over those eight years, it weakened and atrophied from disuse, but the unused magic was just collecting inside with nowhere to go. You start using magic again, and your spells work perfectly because there is too much magic being released from that eight year cache you have created. Your core is too small, too weak to properly control the flow of magic needed for the spells used. Then, like a child, your emotions run too high, and you have an accidental outburst, yes?" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "Now, all that stored magic has found a crack, a way to finally release itself. And boom, there goes eight years worth of magic escaping from you in one giant explosion, and lucky for you, you ended up here and not dead."

"Hm." Inhaling deeply, Jo leaned back against the pillows, rolling her eyes to stare at the ceiling. Her mind begins to digest the new information, and she tries to recall all of the magic she has done over the last few months. Were her spells too strong? She hadn't noticed anything amiss. Shouldn't she have realized there was something wrong long before last night?

"I can tell, just by looking at you, that you're wondering how you had never noticed anything wrong with your spells, yes?" Once again, she didn't respond, but this time, he at least could see her facial expression change. "Inebriation of any kind dulls the senses, naturally. However, magical alcohol dulls magical senses." She shot him a dirty look, and Gabriel offered her an easy smile. "I have also discovered that you are…extremely inclined to alcohol. Ah, I can see you're thinking about who told on you. The answer is no one. Your liver failed last night, and while I was treating it, I noticed very heavy and old scarring. Which is a very clear sign of prolonged heavy alcohol consumption. You would have suffered the symptoms of a failing liver had your magic not kept it at bay. With your magic gone, your liver rapidly shut down. Your body went through quite a toll last night, and frankly, Miss Delacroix, you are _damn_ lucky to be alive."

The healer didn't stay long after that, only checking her vitals and casting a few more diagnostic spells. Before he shut the door, he heard her voice croak a quiet "Thanks, Doc.". By the time he had reached his next patient, he was smiling brightly again.

"Good evening, Mrs. Twills. What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, me foot's bloody backwards. What are ya, blind? Did they send me a _blind_ healer?!" The old witch glared at the nurse running general diagnostic spells. "Are ya deaf, girl? Answer me!"

Well, so much for that bright smile.

* * *

Harry followed Katherine as they were lead by a healer in green robes left and right through blindingly white hallways. He had never been in a hospital before. For the first time in his life, he sympathized with Dudley. His cousin hates hospitals, and would turn deathly white at the mention of them. The moans and cries coming from within dark and curtained rooms as they passed made the hair on his neck and arms stand on end. He let Poppy take his hand without a word, grateful for the comfort.

"Here we are, room 204. Last I had heard, she was awake and very much aware. Please consider that she is very tired and in considerable pain. If her energy begins to fade, it would be best if you three left her to rest." The healer witch gave them each a stern glare before turning on her heel and stalking away. Her shoes squeaked loudly against the floor as she went.

His heartbeat felt heavy as he entered the room. He could see the end of Jo's bed, but the rest of it was hidden behind a large white curtain. Katherine stepped around it quickly, offering a quiet hello and asked how she was feeling.

"Fucking…awful…no thanks…to you." Harry froze at the sound of her croaking and cracking voice. She was in pain. "Where's…Harry?"

"Young Harry be right here, Mistress." Poppy pulled him from around the curtain, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before pushing him forward.

Jo and Harry just stared at one another, inspecting each other closely. She let out a sigh of relief at seeing him completely unharmed, albeit he looked bloody exhausted. He sucked in a breath and his throat clogged. She looked _awful_.

Suddenly, Jo's eyes filled with tears. "H-Harry, I'm _so sorry_." Harry started to shake his head. He should be the one apologizing. "No, kid, l-listen…I'm…sorry. You…don't deserve…what I did." Without thinking, Harry rushed her, and gasping in obvious pain, Jo crushed him to her chest. He could feel tears pricking behind his eyelids, but he tried to hide them as Jo's chest convulsed with her own tears. "You…were…right. About… **everything**."

Katherine had turned away from the display, recognizing it should be private. She tried to hide her own sniffle, but Poppy gave her a knowing look and shoved a handkerchief into her hand.

"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have pushed you. It's my fault you-" Jo cut him off, covering his mouth with her hand. The strength she had was starting to wear off quickly. "Not…your fault. I'm…sorry for…being shit. You…deserve more."

"Oh, for Helga's sake, will someone give her a bloody pain potion already?!" Katherine yelled out the door, earning many glares and shushes. The healer that had led them there suddenly appeared, huffing and glaring with potion bottles in hand.

"Stop all that racket, this is a hospital not a quidditch match." She stalked into the room, glaring at Harry until he untangled himself from Jo. "I told you all she was weak. She needs rest. Here, drink up," she held the bottle to Jo's lips, ignoring the witch's glare as she gulped it down. "You have five minutes, then you best leave her to sleep." She held another bottle to Jo's lips. "She'll be down for the rest of the night. Which is what she needs." Once again, she set her glare on each of them before disappearing to chastise someone else.

"Damn well took them long enough. Why would you tell them to keep pain potions from me?" Jo grumbled, already relaxing back into her pillows. The dreamless sleep potion was beginning to pull her under. She didn't really catch Katie's response, focusing more on holding Harry's hand tightly within her own. "I'm really sorry…Harry." Her eyelids began to flutter, but she kept her gaze only on Harry. "I don't deserve you…I…."

They watched as Jo fell limp, obviously asleep as light snore erupted from her mouth. Poppy clucked her tongue, commenting it was much too cold in the room and tugged Jo's blanket up around her shoulders. Katherine stood back, reading over the chart hung on the wall. The words 'Exhausted Magical Core', 'Alcohol dependency', 'Metaphysical, physical, and psychological evaluations' popping out at her. Harry tightened his fingers around Jo's as her hand began to fall lax. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, and her lips lifted ever so slightly in her sleep.

"Come on then, we best let her rest. We can visit tomorrow," Katherine whispered, even though an explosion wouldn't be able to wake her friend at the moment. Harry gave a slight smile and nodded. "Poppy?"

"Poppy just be a moment, this pillow not be good for Mistress. Mistress likes soft-"

"Poppy, she'll be fine. We need to go. Harry's exhausted and needs dinner." That obviously did the trick, and Harry shrank under the elf's intense eyes. She was a blur after that, leading them back down the winding hallways as she ranted about little ones needing proper rest and nutritious food to grow big and strong. Even though he was relieved to be leaving,  
Harry couldn't help but want to run back to Jo and see her smile one more time.

* * *

"Please take some time to read these over. I have a very good friend that would be happy to lend his company and assistance if you wish to attempt this form of treatment." Healer Nyaga handed her the pamphlets. She took them, trying not to show her impatience, and sat them beside her on the bed. The dark-skinned man was out of his healer robes, apparently just stopping in to share this information with her while out on errands. "I really do implore you, Miss Delacroix, to consider it. It's a wonderful program, and I've seen many patients heal and grow from it." He smiled a lot, too.

"I'll look into it." Merlin, she really couldn't do all of this _smiling_ and being _pleasant_. She felt like she was on fire. Her skin felt dried out and tight. Her throat was itchy and dry, and the water did nothing to assuage it. Talking and thinking and **being** was driving her up the fucking wall. She wanted to go back to sleep just to escape all of this _discomfort_.

The healer started talking again, his bright white teeth flashing over and over again from his stupid bright smile. She couldn't listen anymore, though. His words had become static, a jumble of sounds and tones she couldn't comprehend. Merlin, why was her throat so itchy? She rubbed at the skin over the tickling and scratching. It did nothing. The skin of her arm felt like dried leather, constricting tighter and tighter with every breath she took. She really just wanted everything to stop.

She really just wanted a fucking drink.

Gabriel Nyaga could tell the moment Jospehine Delacroix had stopped listening. Her bright eyes had stopped moving, glazing over as she rubbed her throat. Her face took on a irritated yet distressed look. He knew the thought of whiskey was the only beacon of light on inside her mind. He wondered, as he sat back and observed the woman in silence, had she even realized her own thought process yet? Had she even realized how much that single thought controlled her daily existence? Did she wake up and drink? Or was it a reward for getting through the day? How much control did a bottle of liquid hold over this mysterious woman's life?

Yes, he thought, in the last few days he had decided Josephine Delacroix was, in fact, a very mysterious patient. She held her cards close to her chest, only showing a peek, enough to be left alone again. Perhaps it was the withdrawal, it is a _very_ unpleasant experience, but she seemed horrible at interacting with people. Extremely disinclined to conversation unless it had to do with her impending release. She also did not seem to like him. 'You smile too much' she had rasped at him last night, baring her teeth, hoping he would leave her alone. He would have thought her another lonely and miserable soul, stuck in the bottle because no one was there to drag them back out. He would have thought this if it were not for…

"Jo!" Little Harry, the boy who had been to see her every day. The boy who had sat, exhausted and hungry, waiting for Gabriel to fix her. The healer watched, hiding his smile behind a hand, as the irritated and distressed woman suddenly transformed before his eyes. The lines in her face fell away, de-aging her back into her young self, and a small smile lit up her entire being as the child dove into her arms.

"Hey, kid. How was school today?" She brushed his hair from his eyes with tender fingers, laughing when he sighed dramatically. However, feeling it was well past the time, Gabriel interrupted the boy.

"Miss Delacroix, please consider what I've told you. And lucky for you, I shall be back by eight p.m. sharp. Mister Harry, would you do me a terribly big favor?" The boy smiled brightly in response and nodded. "Make sure Miss Delacroix rests and relaxes. She has a big day tomorrow!"

"Of course, sir. I won't let Jo get upset!" Gabriel smiled brightly at the eager boy, pretending he couldn't see Josephine Delacroix glaring daggers at him from her pillow. He waved in good-bye, watching from the corner of his eye as she hid the pamphlets under her pillow or the way her face crumpled in self-loathing.

"What's wrong, Jo?" He heard Harry ask as he began shutting the door. And like a child, the accomplished Healer Gabriel Nyaga kept his ear to the crack of the door, waiting for her response.

"Nothing at all, kid. I'm just thinking about how much I miss being home, with my family."

* * *

It was well past visiting hours, the lights dimmed and the hallway chatter quiet. Her body still felt weak and useless, a _wrongness_ to it without the beat of her magic. She had settled herself in the scratchy sheets and stiff pillow, eyes shut and mind loud with thoughts. Healer Nyaga had stopped in once more, after Harry had been taken home, to discuss her treatment plan. She would be incapable of magic for, well, an unknown amount of time. They would be conducting tests in the morning, and she would have to meet a 'Metaphysical Therapist' to begin strengthening her magical core again.

It shocked her into physically jumping in fright when someone coughed beside her. Wide-eyed, she turned to find Albus fucking Dumbledore sat in the chair Harry had occupied only a few hours ago.

His bright blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles as he offered her a grandfatherly smile. As usual, he was garbed in bold robes. These ones specifically were covered in shooting stars. His beard long enough the end of it fell over his knees and brushed the floor. He looked right at home in the stiff green chair. With a grumble, she turned her head away and settled back against the stiff pillow. "What are you doing here," she sighed, much too tired for whatever game he had begun. She really does loathe that man.

"I had heard that you had a terrible accident, Miss Delacroix." In true Dumbledore fashion, his voice was quiet and comforting, a generic lull of many years shadowing his words. "Is it so strange for me to be concerned and wish to visit an old friend?"

"No, it isn't." The quiet of a hospital at night seemed to have the affect of softening people's words, even harsh ones. "But you and I aren't friends, Dumbledore."

He smiled again, brighter this time. "I like to remember that we once were."

Frowning, she didn't voice the angry syllables jumping on the tip of her tongue. When Albus Dumbledore wanted something, he would push and prod and _manipulate_ until you ended up believing his plans were all your own. Silence was her best defense and greatest weapon.

Unperturbed by her silence, Albus let his eyes inspect the two wands on her bedside table. Perhaps he was still curious, after all this time, what they would feel like. Would they feel any different from the many wands he had held in his lifetime? One red and the other black, they looked like any wand you could find in a wandmaker's shop. Yet, their blandness, the generic-ness of them had made them all the more mysterious to him, and like any puzzle, his mind was eager to align the pieces until the picture was clear. "You have depleted your magical core."

Once again, the weary eyed witch remained silent, so he continued. "It would be dishonest of me to say I came here only out of concern for an old friend. I'm sure you understand my curiosity. You had always retained…an instinctual aptitude on what you could or could not do. What could have caused such a reckless incident?"

Merlin, the colorful curse words were ricocheting off of her teeth and back into her throat. How dare he think he would come here, ask a few gentle questions, and she would just spill all the answers at his feet. Ooh, she had forgotten how easy it had been to do just that. Her mind still faltered, confusing his kind smile and low tones with a man who truly was concerned for her.

But Dumbledore didn't do concern. He did digging. Digging for information, for plan formulation and strategical analysis. Albus Dumbledore was more a snake than any Slytherin she had ever met in her entire life. And it took everything in her tired state to remember that fact.

"And please correct me if my concern is misplaced, but would it be wrong of me to assume Mister Potter had been witness to it?" He watched as her frown deepened and her eyes softened with guilt. "It must have been difficult for you both. I, unfortunately, do not have to imagine the destruction of a magical explosion. Seeing as it was only you who has been admitted, it seems Mister Potter was lucky enough to emerge unscathed."

Guilt _burned_ inside her stomach as he spoke. Harry had no idea how lucky he had been. There were enough stories to prove how _devastating_ a magical explosion could be for a bystander. She hated Dumbledore a little more in that moment. She didn't need his reminder, her conscience was doing a fine job of shoving Harry's terrified face into her mind's eye at every moment of quiet.

His old hand landed on her shin, giving it a gentle squeeze. She tried to will it to catch fire with her glare alone. "Do you still believe him to be safer in your care?"

Dumbledore offered her another kind smile when she finally met his gaze. His eyes twinkled, and she knew he could see her answer written all over her face. "Thank you, Miss Delacroix, for allowing an old man your ear. I do hope you will grant me the benefit of any doubt that I do truly wish you a speedy and wholesome recovery." He patted her leg once more before standing. He stopped beside her bed stand, dropping a small package of lemon drops beside her wands. "I know many do not share this opinion, but I find these to be particularly delicious. Sweet yet tart. Simply invigorating for the senses." He offered her one last smile and hummed, as if the thought of the candy brought him joy. Then, without a hurry to his step, he finally walked out of her room without even a glance back.

She hoped he was still outside the door when that stupid bag full of those stupid lemon drops exploded against the wall.

 _ **Fuck him**_ _,_ her mind screamed. She yanked her stupid fucking pillow from behind her and filled it with her hoarse scream. She screamed until her lungs burned for oxygen. Snarling, she inhaled deeply, digging the palms of her hands into her eyes. Stars exploded behind the skin of her eyelids, burning away the image of Albus fucking Dumbledore and his fucking kind smile. _**Fuck him, fuck him, FUCK HIM!**_

In the unbearable quiet of her room, Jo crumpled into herself as she realized even in her silence, Dumbledore had gotten the only answer he truly wanted. He had _poked_ and _prodded,_ like she fucking _knew_ he would. Even in her silence, he still found out that _no_ , Jo did not think Harry should stay anywhere near her. How could she protect him from the most vile and evil beings that roamed their world, when she couldn't even protect him from _**herself**_?

She had been stupid, foolish and high on the giddiness Harry's presence had caused in her heart. How could she have offered him a place in her home? She couldn't even stop herself from drinking. She couldn't even fucking protect her own magic! How could she let herself believe _she_ could do anything right by the kid?

* * *

 **I actually want to end this chapter with two things. The first being a quote from a very dear friend of mine, who was addicted to a lot of shit, but thankfully has come out on the other side with almost four years clean!**

 **"When you're in that place...everyone is dope sick and detoxing...all I really remember is smelling death. Everyone, me too, we all smelled like death was leaking out of our bodies...I never want to go back there."**

 **Second, if you or anyone you care about is suffering an addiction, please know there is an entire community of people out there, dedicated to seeing you sober and becoming the best version of yourself you can be. The road to sobriety is fucking hard, but so so worth it. I know many mothers who don't know or see their children, many men and women whose families have closed their doors because they don't know what else to do; addiction is a lonely road to walk. Your 'friends', the people indulging with you, providing for you, selling you for their own highs; they don't care if you live or die. They, just like you, only care about that next high. Please, if the decision for sobriety has been circling your mind, take a hold of it and never let go. Sober you is the best you, I promise.**

 **Drug-Abuse-dot-Com has many hotlines, available 24/7, ready to answer any questions and help you. Please visit and call.**


	12. Chapter 12 Conviction

**As always, thank you all so much for the continued support. Hope I'm not boring anyone too much with how slow we're moving. Here soon, we'll be able to move through time much faster.**

 **You all know the drill by now, read, enjoy, and if you have the inclination, leave some feedback. Because I fucking love it.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **Conviction**

 **"Conviction is worthless unless it is converted into conduct." -Thomas Carlyle**

* * *

In the darkness, the overly large bed illuminated only by moonlight, Harry tossed and turned. For the last week, since Jo's admittance to the hospital, he had been sleeping cocooned in her blankets, surrounded by her essence. Poppy had nearly died of fright when she couldn't find him the first morning. She hadn't scolded him, though, or said a word more once she had discovered his hiding spot. The elf knew this would be his only source of comfort while her Mistress was hospitalized.

He couldn't sleep tonight, though. His skin felt uncomfortably sticky, and the bed was too stuffy. Even with Taffy to hug and hold, her presence calming and peaceful. His brain just wouldn't quit. Images of Jo, drunk and snarling, then scared and screaming, assaulted his mind. The blood running down her face as her body shook uncontrollably in this very bed. Her pale and exhausted face against the white of the hospital sheets and walls. The fact she had quite literally almost died. All of these thoughts plagued him, awake or asleep. They terrified him.

And it made his mind wonder, what _would_ he do without Jo?

He didn't want to think about that. _Anything_ but that.

Finally, he just got out of the bed. Taffy whined, stretching across the mattress to watch as he roamed around the room. He knew he probably shouldn't, but during the last few nights, unable to sleep from the fear in his heart, he had begun snooping through Jo's things. So far, he hadn't found much of anything; just her clothing, a lot of books and notepads, and a few trinkets and pieces of jewelry in a fancy wooden box. Tonight, though, he had his eyes set on her closet.

Vines and weeds had started growing over the cracks, re-covering Jo's work from all those weeks ago. Pulling her desk chair from across the room, Harry set to work on untangling and removing the stubborn greenery. Once the door had been cleared, he set to work on pulling and pulling and _pulling,_ but the door just wouldn't budge. He 'harrumphed' in irritation, crossing his arms and pouting. Did she lock it?

"C'mon, Jo," he whispered to the dark room. "I just want to…I want to know who you are." Of course, there was no response, and of course, the closet door didn't budge when he halfheartedly tugged on it one more time. He hung his head back with a disappointed sigh, and instead started for her desk. Maybe there was something interesting he had missed. A false bottom? A secret drawer?

 **Creeaak**

Slowly, eyes wide in confusion, he turned to find the closet door open just a smidge. His lips tugged up, growing wider as the door opened fully with barely a tug. Boxes upon boxes were crammed inside, covered in dust and spiders. They didn't deter him, though, as he descended upon the boxes like a pirate to treasure.

Poppy found him the next morning curled inside the open closet, surrounded by hundreds of pictures from Jo's life. He had received the lecture of a lifetime that morning, properly chastised about respecting other people's property. He couldn't tamp down the selfish not-guilty sense of accomplishment, though. Especially since Poppy let him keep Jo's camera.

* * *

Jo stared at the three cups in her hands, each labeled and empty. "So pee?" She held up the orange lidded cup. "Spit?" The blue lid. "And… please don't ask me to poo in a cup." The brown lidded cup was set back on the desk with a grimace. The skinny and balding wizard behind the stacks of paperwork gave her an absolutely scandalized face of disgust.

" **Ahem** _No_. Fortunately for both of us, a stool sample is not necessary. That will be for blood."

"Gotta say, not much better," snorting, Jo turned her eyes instead on the many stacks of parchment and books scattered across the desk. Her healer seemed to thrive in chaos. His long fingers would dance across a page, pluck a sheet from a random stack, open an unknown book; never faltering as he continued writing in a squished and illegible hand.

"Well, usually I would just take a sample of a patient's magic. However, seeing as you currently are not producing any, we'll have to see what, if any, of your magical essence could still be infused within your blood." Healer Wolff was a middle-aged man with a thick German accent. He seemed disinclined to the use of sarcasm and curse words. He seemed very inclined to pacing and thinking aloud. Which he proved when he, _once again,_ leaped from his seat and continued wearing a track into the floor behind his desk. "You are a unique case, Miss Delacroix. Matured witches and wizards do not usually, well firstly, completely drain their magical cores, and secondly, _survive_ a magical core depletion. Of course, I have reached out to some of my colleagues in hopes that they might offer some insight. In the meantime, you are being treated as the first ever case St. Mungo's has ever seen." He turned an almost manic eyed stare on her, stopping to hunch over his desk and inspect her through his goggle-like glasses. "It's all absolutely _**thrilling**_."

"Wonderful," she grunted. "So which do you want first, piss or spit?" Wagging the two cups next to her face, she counted it a small victory when the little mad scientist's excitement deflated from him like a balloon. "Urine, _please,_ Miss Delacroix."

* * *

Healer Nyaga paused in the doorway of Josephine Delacroix's room. Young Harry was sat beside her, nestled into her arm as he held a large camera to face them. Miss Delacroix laughed openly, a sound he wasn't sure he had heard the young woman make outside of the child's company. "Perhaps I could be of some assistance?," the healer offered, watching as the boy struggled with pressing the shutter.

"Please, sir! It's mine and Jo's first picture!" The green eyed boy excitedly handed over the large camera. He scrambled back onto the bed, nestling into Jo's side and smiling widely. She offered the camera her usual small smile, squeezing Harry to her. Gabriel thought, even though it was in a hospital and she would probably complain about the state of her hair, Jo and Harry would have a beautiful first picture. "Thank you, sir."

"You are very welcome. Now," he waved his wand as he spoke, performing diagnostic spells around the now glaring woman. "How is my favorite patient, today?" He quickly jotted down her results, settling himself into the visitor chair. Heartbeat, blood pressure, oxygen levels: all normal. Organs were all working at full capacity. Magical core production: zero. Miss Delacroix's normal stats.

"Well, I had to offer up a lot of my personal bodily fluids to a crazy man, but other than that," she shrugged, and trailed off. Unfortunately, he had noticed, getting information from Miss Delacroix was nearly as difficult as wrestling free from a devil snare. Especially when Harry was present.

"Ah, yes. You had your metaphysical evaluation today. Healer Wolff is a very passionate man, but I can assure you, he is one of the best in his field." He flipped over her chart, reading the man's notes. Jo quirked an eyebrow as his eyebrow's rose sharply in blatant surprise. "Ah…interesting," he offered lamely when he caught her inquisitive expression. "Mister Harry, could I ask for yet another favor?" The young boy perked up instantly, ready to help for Jo at all times. "Could you run down to the nurse's desk, ask for Mrs. Jones. See if she would be so kind as to bring Jo's potions."

Once Harry had left the room, Jo turned on the healer. "What?" The man hesitated a moment, re-reading the paperwork. "What's so bad on that paper for you to send Harry out?"

Healer Nyaga coughed lightly. "It seems that we don't actually have a recovery plan." Honestly, with the fluctuating temperament of the woman, he expected her to yell and curse his name up and down. Preparing himself, he leaned back into the seat with a neutral expression. However, Josephine merely snorted and rolled her eyes. "You already knew this, didn't you?"

"He informed me this morning, yeah. Said he's _'thrilled'_ by the challenge." She shrugged, attempting nonchalance by the whole affair, but deep inside, she was _terrified_. What the fuck was she going to do without her magic? Gabriel could easily read the panic in her eyes.

"Miss Delacroix, I promise you, we will find a way to fix this-"

"Don't make that promise, Doc. You don't know if you can keep it." Her words were quiet, gentle almost, but shrouded in steel. She leveled him with a steady gaze. "And if you or Healer Wolff can't fix me, there's no one to blame but myself. I endangered my _family_. Maybe… maybe this is just karmatic justice working her own magic." Jo looked away when his face fell, pity clear in those soulful brown eyes. Instead, she pulled the pamphlets from her drawer, the ones he had given her. "I've thought about these, by the way. If your associate is still available, I think I'm willing…that I _should_ give it a try."

Gabriel smiled brightly at that. She didn't seem to mind it so much today, especially when compared to his pitying gaze. "That is wonderful news. I shall contact my associate tonight, and hopefully, he can meet with you tomorrow. If you can manage, I think it would be best to make your as soon as possible. Seeing as you will be discharged by this time tomorrow, a safe space to go would be a great benefit." Breaking his professionalism, he reached out to grab her hand in his own. He thought it was worth it, though, just to see he actually could surprise the mysterious woman. Her surprised blue eyes met his, and he tried to implore his words through their gaze. "This is the first step in the right direction. I just want you to remember that, even when you feel like everything is too much. _This_ is your true path to recovery, Miss Delacroix."

As expected, she did not smile or even verbally respond. But her face relaxed, her eyes crinkling lightly at the edges, and she offered him a firm nod. Realizing, after she glanced at his hand still holding her own, he perhaps had acted just a tad too informally. He retracted his hand quickly, fiddling with the chart in his lap. "Yes, well. Tomorrow morning, you shall be meeting with Healer Wolff once more, hopefully my associate, and then we will conduct your final physical examination. After that, you will be a free woman."

"You're coming home tomorrow?!" Healer Nyaga had never been as thankful for the excited boy as he was in that moment. Embarrassment heated his skin as he made a quick departure. Jo smirked after the Healer, flexing her fingers uncertainly at the tingle his flesh had left behind.

"Does that mean you're all better?" Harry asked, hopping onto the end of her bed, still smiling brilliantly.

"No, but I'm on my way." Jo offered him a small smile, even as her insides chilled at the thought. " ' _The road to recovery'_ , remember?"

* * *

Night time was definitely the most difficult. In the dim lights and hushed whispers, the peace and quiet only gave way to the darkness scratching and cooing away inside of her. She _struggled_. During the day, its whispers could be ignored, tamped down beneath social interaction and the hustle of the hospital. Then Harry would leave, Healer Nyaga would punch out, and the nurses would come in for the night shift.

That is when the darkness crept out. Cold, yet warm. Striking at her weakest moments, then licking the cuts with sugar coated hisses. _**It would have been easier if you had just jumped. You**_ _ **'re too kind, though, going through this for the boy. You don't deserve this pain. Haven't you suffered enough. Aren't you suffering now? How can you stand all of this?**_

Her throat itched terribly, tickling and scratching, desperate for just refreshment. Not water, though. Or pumpkin juice. Or tea. Or coffee. _**Just one drop, what could it hurt? You've lasted this long, what's one drop more?**_

And her skin felt too tight. Every breath made it shrink, constricting her muscles and bones into an unbearable stiffness. Her veins protruded out from the pale and sweat slicked skin. Even those felt too tight, as if her blood flow was just a millisecond away from being fatally slow. _**The hangovers were never this terrible. See, you're suffering.**_

She tended to throw up a lot, too. Even if she hadn't eaten all day due to nausea. Her stomach would roll and tumble, acid burning her throat and nose as she heaved into the bag. _ **Just one drop would take all of this away. Remember how good it felt?**_

Merlin, she couldn't stand looking at these walls anymore. Too white. Too bare. Too _suffocating_. She wanted to go home. She wanted her dogs. She wanted Poppy. She wanted Harry snoring away beside her.

 _ **Tomorrow, you can make it all better once you're home.**_

"Fuck off. I fucking can't deal with you right now."

 _ **I know what you**_ **really** _ **want. You can't lie to me.**_

Jo knew too. The thought was never far from the forefront of her mind. She wanted the bottles under the sink. Firewhiskey. Muggle Whiskey. Fuck, she'd settle for a beer. She just wanted her throat to stop _itching_. _**Just. One. Drop.**_

And deep down, she was scared. Scared to never have another drink. Scared to hear this darkness inside her head. Scared to _feel_ all of these emotions crashing through her. Scared to sleep with a sober mind. Scared, once the dreamless sleep was gone, to see _**them**_ again.

 _ **See, it helps you. How will you manage without it? You'll suffer, just like before. Every minute. Every day.**_

Oh Merlin, why couldn't it just shut the fuck up?! She had been so sure. Healer Nyaga had given her those pamphlets, and she had read them. She had read every word, every night until they had been burned behind her eyelids. The words inside were so invigorating…so _comforting_. She thought she had been resolved to end this. S _he had decided._ Why was it trying to ruin her?

And like every night, she grew angry. Roaring and blindingly mad. At everyone and everything. At Poppy for bringing her to this fucking place, locking her away in a room to rot inside her own head. At Katherine, for coming back into her life just to save it. At the fucking healer for giving her this false hope. ' _Road to recovery'_ her ass. Hell, she was even mad at Harry, for dragging her out of her self-imposed solitude. For making her promise to _fix_ herself. How the hell was she supposed to fix this?

Mostly, though, she was completely fucked off at herself, for letting some liquid in a bottle control her so thoroughly. She thought Dumbledore manipulative? He was _**nothing**_ compared to her whiskey.

Then she was guilty. Oh Merlin, she was fucking guilty. For much more than drinking. Poor Harry, poor Poppy; having to deal with everything she had done, had _said_. Her broken promises. And _now?_ What the hell did she have to offer anyone? Her mind was shattered, stuck on a bottle of whiskey like a dog to a bone. Her magic is gone, _**fucking**_ _ **gone.**_ No one knew if it would even come back.

And her heart? Was there even room inside of it left for another person? Or was it swallowed by the selfish and cold darkness now?

There was so much guilt inside of her. Years of names, faces, actions and consequences; all pushed down into this well, and the darkness had devoured all of it. All these years, it had burrowed deep inside, expanding and growing louder as she drank away her every sin. Now, though, _now_ she actually had to _remember_.

She hadn't forgotten a single thing inside those bottles. They had only delayed the onslaught of ugly, terrifying,and **evil**.

Finally, like a weak and scared child caught inside a storm, she would cry. She would sob and whine and howl under the pressure of darkness in her soul, eating away at her mind until she couldn't tell her thoughts from its whispers. That's usually when they brought her the dreamless sleep potion. When she was being obnoxious and unruly.

 _ **Maybe they'll give you too much dreamless sleep tonight. Wouldn't it be nice? Asleep to the world, surrounded in that nothingness you always wanted. Too afraid to face me.**_

 _ **But I'm all you have left.**_

That was fine. At least then, she could take a break. If only for a night, she could stop existing and feeling and crumbling beneath the weight of it all. Stop hearing the whispers.

* * *

Edward 'Ted' Tonks, due to patient confidentiality, had naturally not been told the identity of the person he was to meet. However, he still couldn't help the breath of surprise when he entered the room. It was little Josephine Delacroix. "Holy Helga." Jo and Katie, a familiar sight from the Hufflepuff common room, looked up at him with matching faces of surprise and confusion. Merlin, he really had not been expecting this.

"Ted Tonks, is that you?" Katie acknowledged their former housemate first, smiling widely as she stood to offer him a firm handshake. "Merlin, it's been an age since I saw that face. How's that darling girl of yours? Nymphadora, right?"

"Oh, she's a troublesome fourth year, now. Made her old man proud getting sorted into Hufflepuff, my Dora." He smiled brightly, melting the age from his face. Like any proud father, talk of his little girl just brought the joy out in him. "And you? I've heard you've almost got a quidditch team at home, now."

"Merlin, **no**. Three beautiful, rotten children. I told William if he wants another mouth to feed, there are plenty of kittens and owls at the Emporium." They shared a chuckle at that, but quickly quieted when Healer Nyaga stepped through the door.

"Ah, I see you've met Mr. Tonks. Thank you for coming on such short notice, my friend." The men shared a handshake before the healer turned his attention on his patient. "This is the associate I mentioned. Any of your questions or concerns about the program, he'll be able to answer and explain more in depth than the literature. Mr. Tonks-"

"Introductions aren't all that necessary, actually. We already know one another." Ted interrupted good naturedly, sparing an awkward smile. "Josephine, it's good to see you. Obviously, I'm sure we both wish it was under different circumstances." She nodded in response, her face and body tense. "Would it be alright if I sat? I daresay we have a long conversation ahead of us."

"Ehm, yeah…yeah, go right ahead." _Shit_ , Jo couldn't help thinking as she watched him walk across the room. She had expected this meeting to be uncomfortable. How could it not be? She had not been expecting the pure embarrassment churning inside of her, shame burning beneath her skin. Ted Tonks had been the last person she expected to see, in literally any situation.

Ted sat in the chair with a grunt, giving her his utmost attention with a kind smile, but she remained silent. Katherine and Healer Nyaga shared a concerned glance. Perhaps it would be best if…

"Would it be more comfortable to discuss this privately? That would be fine, right Gabriel?" The older man gave the Healer an apologetic smile, but Gabriel just nodded, directing Katherine towards the tea room as they exited. "Better?" Ted kept a gentle and easy tone, relieved when he saw her shoulders lose some of their tension.

"It's awkward either way. I wasn't expecting you to be someone I actually knew." Jo gave him a grimace. "Don't take that as an insult, it's just embarrassing."

"No, I understand, but can I be honest? It's embarrassing no matter who walks through that door." She frowned at him. "It's something that you feel regardless. The shame and embarrassment when you have to talk about your addiction. It's easier, you'll find, when you're surrounded by people that understand."

"You're one of those people, huh?"

"It's why I'm here. I started this program, actually. When I was in your position, there wasn't a wizarding version, but the muggles have them cropping up all over. They've been combating addiction much longer than us magic folks. They're a lot more informed when it comes to treatment." Ted tapped the pamphlets sitting beside her on the bed. "After the war, there were a lot of us. Still are. A lot of magic folk wouldn't take kindly to being sent out into the muggle world, so me and a few others started this."

Jo cracked a smirk. "Hufflepuff through and through."

Ted smiled brightly in response. "And damn proud of it."

Sighing, Jo flipped open the top pamphlet, feigning reading the words she had memorized backward and forward. This is what she decided. It was time to commit. "So…what's my next step?"

* * *

Harry fidgeted in the stiff green chair. He and Poppy were sat in the lobby, waiting anxiously while Katherine talked to the receptionist. They were speaking in hushed tones, but the blond kept throwing the wooden doors anxious glances. Jo would be coming through them soon. Harry fidgeted again at the thought.

Katherine suddenly appeared beside them with a sigh, but offered the boy a gentle smile. "No worries, they're just finishing up some paperwork. Jo will be out before we know it." Harry nodded enthusiastically. His fingers played with the camera in his lap, running over its many grooves and angles. It had become an extension of himself in the past few days, filled with pictures of Jo, Poppy, the dogs and house, and even a few of Katherine and Healer Nyaga. "It's been a long time since I saw that old thing," the woman indicated the camera in his lap with a nod of her head. "You could always count on if Jo was around, her camera would be in reaching distance."

"Yeah, I found a lot of her pictures." Harry blushed, thinking he probably wasn't meant to see some of the photographs. Especially a couple of the woman in front of him. She probably wouldn't be happy knowing he had seen her younger self dressed only in undergarments, shouting at presumably Jo as she ran after her. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Harry focused on the camera intently."Why did she stop?"

The witch ran a finger over the camera fondly, offering a sad smile when the boy glanced up at her. "The war, I'd assume. I think she lost a lot of her passions after it. Maybe, seeing you with it, she'll want to start doing those things again."

He was about to ask what exactly Jo liked doing, but Poppy interrupted them with a sudden squeal. "My Mistress!" They all stood excitedly as Jo and Healer Nyaga, with a box in his hands, came through the wooden doors. Jo grimaced at the excited elf, but a small smile pulled at her lips when the elf clung to her legs with another squeak. "Hello to you too, Poppy." Holding an arm out, she let out a raspy chuckle when Harry joined the embrace. "You too, Kid. Hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Only about a week. Not too long, I s'pose," Harry grinned up at her cheekily, laughing when she pinched his cheek playfully. "I'm happy you're coming home, Jo. The house is too big without you there." Jo's face fell slightly, offering him a guilty expression, but Harry just kept up his bright smile. She didn't need to know how scared he had really been without her home, just that he was happy she was coming back.

The three pulled away when Healer Nyaga cleared his throat. "I only have a few things to say, I know you are all anxious to take Miss Delacroix home. Firstly, who will be in charge of administering her potions?" Katherine, Jo and Harry all turned their eyes on the little elf. Puffing her chest out, Poppy stepped forward. "Poppy be doing that, Mr. Healer, sir."

"Wonderful, please place your hand here." He held the wooden box out, which glowed briefly when the elf placed her hand over the lid. "Now, this holds all of her prescribed potions. It will only open at her scheduled times to receive those potions. Also, you can only remove one potion, and the phial itself will not open unless it's the scheduled time. Only you, Miss Poppy, can open the box and handle the potions." The box was one of Gabriel's own invention. A necessity after one too many potion overdoses by previous addict patients. He had definitely learned a hard lesson, and he would be damned to experience that again.

"Poppy understands, Mr. Healer. Poppy will be very diligent." Poppy took the box, her face determined and stern. The healer smiled kindly, giving her a nod of appreciation.

"Now, I'm sure you understand that Miss Delacroix is going to have a strenuous and difficult road ahead. I'm hoping you all can ensure she rests when necessary, and seeks proper help during _overwhelming_ moments." Katherine's face turned serious, and she nodded in understanding. She reached out, claiming one of Jo's hands. The ash haired witch only grimaced, shame and guilt plain to read on her face. She squeezed Katherine's hand. Healer Nyaga offered Josephine another Gabriel patented bright smile. "Be sure you rest and relax, stay positive Miss Delacroix. All of this will work out as long as we keep our conviction and remain determined, yes?"

Jo rolled her eyes, sometimes he was just too positive, but offered a nod. "Road to recovery, right?" The healer brightened even more, offering her a hand to shake. "Until the next time, Miss Delacroix."

Smirking, Jo took his hand with an exaggerated air of ending a particularly important business meeting. "That would be Friday, Doc. You're going to be stuck with me for a while, it seems." The man only laughed, stopping the shaking by placing his other hand over their joined ones. "Well, you are my favorite patient."

And then, he was gone, stepping back through the doors with a wave. "Be sure to rest! Healer Wolff has quite the plans outlined for your next meeting."

Once again, Jo was left flexing her fingers in confusion. She turned from the doors with another eye roll, and promptly glared at Katherine's excited face. "Stop making that stupid face."

"But Jo," the blond chuckled, linking an arm with her friend. "You're his _favorite_ patient." She absolutely cackled when Jo began fighting to free the arm she had in an iron grip.

"Shut up," Jo grumbled, stopping her struggling when Harry took her other hand. "Merlin, just get me out of this horrible place. The air here obviously drives people insane." Sighing, she relaxed more and more with every step they took away from those large wooden doors. Even though she wasn't in pain anymore, and the darkness was being mercifully quiet; she still couldn't help the ball of anxiety winding tighter and tighter inside her stomach. She was finally going home.

The day she had waited for. The day that had allowed her to keep her patience as test after test was run on her. The day that staved off the quiet nights full of dark whispers.

Was she truly ready?

* * *

After an excruciatingly long day of excitement and tears and laughter, Jo was finally able to find a quiet moment to just sit and _be_. The hospital had spoiled her, leaving her hours with only herself for company and the many thoughts she had. She had tried, really tried, not to let her irritation and temper show throughout the day. It wasn't that she hadn't dearly missed them all, but she wasn't ready for the hours upon hours of constantly being spoken to. And having to respond. And then being spoken to again. Respond. Listen. Respond. Listen. Over and over again until she wanted to scream for everyone to just _shut up_.

Merlin, she just needed a moment. Just a few minutes to sit and reset.

Ted had warned her of this. Given words to all the feelings building inside of her for the past week; 'Over-stimulation', 'withdrawal', and 'agitation'. Her emotions had been a roller coaster of ups and downs, left and right, and crisscross. Rinse and repeat. There never seemed a moment of neutrality, of quiet.

Finally, she was awarded the quiet of bedtime, and had hastily retreated after tucking Harry into bed. With a deep inhale and _long_ exhale, she fell back onto her bed with closed eyes. She just needed a moment, a few minutes, to relax in the nothingness of a blank mind.

It didn't last long. Her brain was already pushing images of the day, buzzing with the desire to review each and every word and interaction.

" _Where are the bottles, Poppy?"_

" _They be gone, Mistress. Poppy destroyed all of them."_

" _All of them?" Her voiced had strained, throat suddenly itching and dry._

" _All. Of. Them." The elf leveled her with a glare, daring her to look._

" _Good."_

It was good, right? She didn't need the temptation in the house, right? It would have been bad. She would have nose-dived straight into the whiskey the moment Harry had gone to bed. She knew it, convinced of it.

 _ **Come now, it would have-**_

"POPPY I NEED MY DREAMLESS SLEEP! NOW!"

 _ **Oh, that won't fix it, dear. I'll still be here. I'll always be here.**_

" _ **POPPY**_ _!"_ Her breaths were coming to fast, panic eating away at her mind as the hisses grew.

 _ **Ah, I see now. You're just trading. One silencer for another. So weak. Pathetic and weak. Should''ve jumped, just like I told you. I know what's best for us, what you need.**_

She didn't want to hear this. Merlin, where the hell was Poppy?

 _ **Do you think she found the bottles in the-**_

" **SHUT UP!"** Jo screamed, snarling and spitting in rage at her own mind. Breathing deeply, she noticed her arms and legs were shaking, trembling from the adrenaline of fear. Fear that it would be win. That it was right.

Finally, Poppy appeared with her potion, concern clear on her little elven face for her Mistress. Jo gulped it down with abandon, slumping into her bed with a deep sigh of relief as she felt the numbness tingle through her mind. Poppy sat beside her, stroking her little fingers through Jo's hair as she fell deeper into the clutches of nothing-ness.

Bit by bit, her mind began to grow dark. She weakly gripped the elf's other hand. "Don't let me drink, Poppy. Don't let me fail. I don't want to be weak anymore."

"Poppy promises. She will help Mistress be strong." The little elf gripped her hand with a strength made of an inner fortitude. Jo knew it was selfish, but she hoped the elf would lend her some. She sorely needed it.

"Good."

* * *

The following night, Jo found herself breathing deeply again, eyes closed as she tried to calm her mind. Calm the darkness thrashing around inside, screaming at her that she was making a terrible mistake. _**You'll suffer! You'll suffer and crumble and be weak, just like before!**_ She didn't entertain it this time, just breathed and pictured the rainforest outside Harry's bedroom window. Harry sitting beside her as he told her all about the animals and insects they would find out there.

Inhale.

Harry smiling, clutching onto her as he fought off sleep to listen to her stories.

Exhale.

"Hey, you ready?" She opened her eyes slowly, meeting chestnut eyes crinkled by an encouraging smile. Nodding, she allowed herself to take in the circle of chairs spread around. Faces of varying expression returned her gaze, ranging from kind and encouraging to apathetic and impatient. She had joined this circle willingly, listening to each of the chair's occupants as they spoke words that struck different chords within. This was the decision she had made. It was time to see it through.

"Hel-lo," her voice cracked. Embarrassment rushed through her, but she held strong, desperately gripping at the conviction she had filled herself with all day. Ted gave her another encouraging smile, nodding for her to continue. She inhaled again, pulling on that stubborn determination she had relied on many times before. "My name is Josephine, and I'm… I _am_ an alcoholic."


	13. Chapter 13 Christmas

**Chapter 13**

 **Christmas**

 **December 1988**

* * *

 _ **"One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas day. Don't clean it up too quickly." -Andy Rooney**_

* * *

The weeks following Jo's release became a whirlwind of activity. Harry found himself dragged out of the house nearly every day. Some days they went through the world room, though Poppy had to control it. They had gone to beaches, restaurants, hiking, the cinema; always on the move. She had said she was trying to make up for her time in the hospital, to make memories with him, but Harry had a feeling that she just didn't like staying in the house. He couldn't say that he minded, though, because they were actually making memories, and he was experiencing many places and things he had never thought possible. At least, not before Jo.

Harry had taken hundreds of photos, he was sure of it. He wanted to capture every detail of their adventures. She seemed to really enjoy his enthusiasm for photography. She showed him the different lenses, how to get better angles, how to focus pictures; he soaked in all the knowledge like a sponge. One day, while Jo was gone for another appointment, he convinced Poppy to get all of the pictures developed. She had, and without him asking, she also picked up a beautiful photo album engraved with the year. He knew exactly what he wanted to give Jo for Christmas.

"So I was thinking," Jo began, her mouth stuffed full of potatoes. Poppy huffed, scolding her Mistress under her breath. Ever since Jo's return home, the house elf had become gentler in her reprimands. The holidays being only a few days away probably softened the small elf even more. "We should probably finish your gift shopping. Didn't you want to get Abigail a present?"

Harry mumbled something unintelligible in response. Yes, he probably _should_ get Abigail a gift. However, he and the girl had had something of a row some days ago, and had since taken to ignoring one another. He was starting to miss his friend, but there was a part of him that was still too angry.

"And what about Lenny? We could ship it to him tomorrow, and it should be there fairly quick. Maybe a couple days late," Jo shrugged, finally looking up to find Harry glaring at his plate. "What's wrong, kid?"

Harry sighed, pushing his food around. "Abigail and I had a row. We haven't been talking much. I don't know if she'll want a present from me." He finished with a shrug. He didn't want to discuss it, to tell Jo what it was about.

"What'd you fight about?" She took a sip from her coffee, sharing an amused glance with Poppy. Oh, the woes of youth. Harry mumbled in response, blushing slightly as he continued scowling at his potatoes. Hiding a smile behind her mug, she pretended to focus instead on the papers Harry had given her from his school. Waiting him out in silence was a proven success tactic in getting the boy to talk.

As per usual, it didn't take very long.

"It was about you." Harry frowned deeply, looking much older than the eight year old he was. "She's mad about what happened to you. She thinks you aren't taking good care of me. Which is stupid! You take great care of me, Jo! A-and you're trying to get better, which is what really matters. Abigail's just pig-headed and nosy, and she just doesn't understand." Harry's breath came out in quick angry pants at the thought of their fight, and how rude she had spoken of Jo. He looked up in surprise when Jo snorted, failing horribly at hiding her laughter when their eyes connected. "It's not funny! She said really mean things about you, a-and you're my family! She's not allowed to say mean things about you!"

"Oh kid, don't ever change." Jo stood and came around the chairs, leaning down to hug Harry close. "Give the girl some slack. She's a good friend, Harry. Only a good friend would care that you're being taken care of. Even if it makes you mad, she's not wrong in being upset with me. I've just got to show her that I'm really getting better, yeah?" She ruffled his hair, chuckling again when he looked at her completely flabbergasted.

"You shouldn't have to prove anything. She should believe me. It's not like I don't know what not being taken care of is like-" Harry quickly snapped his mouth shut, looking up at Jo with wide eyes. Her face gentled, losing its humor as she gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"It's the truth, though. Isn't it?" Jo's voice was soft, her rough fingers gently brushing through his bangs. "You do know what it's like, and no matter how much I wish I could take that away, it's a part of you. It's something that helped make you into such a kind and wonderful kid. You don't ever have to apologize for it, to me or anyone else. It wasn't your fault, right?" Harry nodded, looking miserable for even bringing it up. Talking about his time with the Dursley's was not their favorite past-time. "Okay, enough of this. What are we getting your _very good_ friend for Christmas?"

* * *

"Lumos." Jo and Healer Wolff stared intently at the tip of her wand. The witch wasn't the least bit surprised when nothing happened. She hadn't felt anything, no stirring or drumming, not a whisper of magic inside her. Healer Wolff checked the dicto-quill beside him, not even hiding his sigh of disappointment. "Nichts, not even a twitch." He waved the quill and parchment away, rolling his stool around her as he disconnected the small patches from her skin. "How have your exercises been going? Have you noticed anything at all? A flicker or heat or-"

"Nothing. As per usual." Jo kept her face passive, trying to hide her own irritation at the lack of progress. She knew it was a possibility, both Healer Wolff and Healer Nyaga had warned her repeatedly of this. It still didn't stop the burning sting of failure or cold grip of panic from seizing her heart.

"And…you are still on the potions, yes?"She nodded, and he hummed in response. "And the core-nourisher, you are taking them two times a day, yes?" Once again, she nodded. "Interesting… _interesting_." It didn't seem all that interesting to Jo, seeing as the pills apparently did nothing. The man suddenly jumped up from his seat, rushing to his desk to begin rifling through the chaos of papers and books across its surface.

"And you weigh roughly 61 kilo…1.7 meters tall…blue eyes…grey hair…27 years old…Hufflepuff." Sighing, Jo relaxed back into her seat. He was on this tangent again, listing off every detail about her life that was in the file. He did this at least three times a session. It was ' _interesting'._ "Which is your dominant hand again?"

Before she could answer, he had spun around and stuck a tongue depressor into her open mouth. The lenses in his glasses suddenly zoomed in, and he tutted. "Perfectly pink and healthy. How disappointing." Spinning away, he recorded his findings. His other hand trailed down a stack of parchment, plucking a page from the middle. She was honestly impressed when the little tower didn't even wobble. "Hmm…yes…perhaps this would lead to some answers." Suddenly, he turned to face her once again, shining his lit wand into her eyes. "I would very much like to visit your home, Miss Delacroix. Shall we say after the new year, Tuesday the Third at Eleven in the morning sharp."

Once again, she was unable to verbally respond as he stuffed a metal instrument inside her opening mouth. It began to spin and whir, releasing a terribly high pitched series of chimes. She could feel her eye begin to twitch as she glared, grinding her teeth across the metal. "Release that at once, Miss Delacroix. It is a valuable medical device, and it is _fragile_." She spit it out into his waiting hand. "I think that's all for today. Don't forget, Tuesday the Third!"

"Why exactly do you need to come to my house? I thought everything was going to be done here." She scowled deeply at the man, her irritation doubling when he turned to her with that telltale manic gleam in his eye.

"Ah, I believe seeing where you live could answer many questions. It might be detrimental to your recovery, oppressive to your magic, you might be sleeping on too soft a mattress, perhaps a mold in the walls; oh, the possibilities are _endless_. Hoy, Miss Delacroix, you're case is splendidly difficult. I haven't this much fun in years!"

Fun.

 _Fun?!_

"You and I have very different definitions of fun, it seems." Jo didn't feel much of a need to discuss this further. Exhaling sharply through her nose, she lifted herself from the chair and stomped from the room. "Remember Miss Delacroix, January third!" Baring her teeth at the receptionist who tried to wish her a 'Happy Christmas', she stalked out of the Metaphysical ward.

"Ah, my favorite patient!" Oh for fuck's sake, Jo snarled and rubbed at her face aggressively. Maybe, if she kept her eyes closed long enough, he would just disappear. "Shall I hazard a guess that your appointment did not go well today?"

"Oh no, it was so fucking _fun._ I can't believe how _fun_ it all is. Can't wait for my next _fun_ appointment. In my house. Doesn't that just sound _**fun**_?," she snarled, glaring accusingly up at the man as he tried to hold in his laughter. _That's it_ , she thought, _I'm going home and never leaving again. All people are terrible._

"I see Healer Wolff has upset you." Healer Nyaga coughed out another chuckle. "Again." Jo huffed through her nose once more, glaring at the floor as she turned to face the lift. Gabriel couldn't help the soft smile, Miss Delacroix pouting was always an adorable sight. "Sickle for your thoughts, Miss Delacroix?" She squinted up at him, her scowl turning to a frown as he only offered that dumb pleasant smile of his.

"I…I'm just frustrated. I know you and Healer Wolff warned me, hell I even warned _you_ , that my magic might not return, but…" trailing off, she let her wands slip into the palms of her hands. "It's…devastating when nothing ever happens." Before Gabriel could respond, she had stowed away the wands, and shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket with a shrug. "Karma, right?" Sighing, she turned to look at the man, half expecting another pitying expression. However, she was not expecting him to be staring down at her like a child who had been given his Christmas gift early.

" _Labda_ … _karma!_ Miss Delacroix, you are brilliant! Pardon me, but I have to run!" The man clapped her shoulder as he turned, running back down the hallway for the Metaphysical ward. His green healer robe fluttered after him like a cape as he turned back into Healer Wolff's office.

"What the fu-"

"Oh, and Have a Happy Christmas, Miss Delacroix!" Healer Nyaga smiled brightly before withdrawing his head back around the corner. Leaving a very confused witch who missed the lift doors as they snapped back shut.

"Happy Christmas?" Jo turned back towards the lift, her eyebrows still raised in confusion, only to scowl as the numbers above started dropping back down. "Oh, fucking hell. Damn these people." She continued cursing and grumbling, pressing the call button repeatedly until the numbers began rising once again. As she rode the lift back down to the floo lobby, she had no idea of the chaotic whirlwind happening above in Healer Wolff's office.

* * *

Abigail looked up in surprise when Harry slid into the seat across from her. He smiled awkwardly at her, prompting her own in response. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed as they took a few bites of their lunch, avoiding each others' eyes. Abigail could feel an apology bubbling out of her throat. It came tumbling out a moment later when she and Harry finally looked at one another.

"I'm so sorry, Harry-"

"I hope you don't mind me sitting-"

They both chuckled, cheeks pink. "Harry, I'm so-"

"Wait," he smiled when she instantly looked put out. "Let me go first, please?" In true Abigail fashion, she sighed dramatically before waving him on. "I've been really angry with you. You said a lot of mean things about Jo, and I thought you were being unfair. I was upset you wouldn't listen when I told you she was getting better." His friend looked down in shame and sadness, and he could tell she thought he was still cross with her. "But then, Jo told me something. She said that you're a really good friend to have said those things." She looked up in surprise, her mouth dropping into a perfect circle. "I didn't really get it at first, ya know, and I still think some of things you said weren't true or fair. But I spent a lot of time thinking about it, and I realized Jo was right. You wouldn't have said any of those things unless you actually cared."

Reaching into his bag, Harry pulled the wrapped gift out and slid it across the table. "I'm sorry for not realizing how good of a friend you were being, and for not talking to you."

Abigail stared at the shiny gold paper. It even had a big red bow stuck on top. Slowly, she reached out and ran her fingers over the smooth surface. "Before I open it, I want to say I'm sorry, too. You're right, I said a lot of mean things, and you were right when you told me I don't know everything." Slipping her hand from the gift, she reached across the table to take his instead. "You're my best friend, though, and I was worried about you. A-and Jo. And I'm really glad she's getting better. I just want you to be happy, y'know?"

"I know, I want you to be happy too, so do me a favor and open the present." Harry smiled brightly when Abigail laughed. She made a big show of ripping the packaging off, and then squealed. Inside the small box laid a pack of high-end drawing pencils, pens, and colored pencils. Underneath them sat a small sketchpad. The small girl launched herself across the table, squeezing Harry in a bear hug as she thanked him over and over again. Laughing, Harry returned the embrace. "Happy Christmas, Abigail."

"Ah, you've made me look bad now. I don't have your gift with me." Harry just shrugged, giddy from making up with his friend, and obviously making her happy with his gift choice. "You'll just have to walk me home." She fiddled with her new art supplies, hoping he couldn't tell how much she had missed their routine.

"I suppose I can pencil you in for today." He laughed openly at her indignant face. God, it felt so good to talk to Abigail again. He didn't know how he had gone so long without her.

"You will pencil me in every day, Harry Potter! I'm your best friend!" She launched herself across the table again, only this time to dig her finger into his chest in harsh rapid pokes. "Say it! Tell me I'm your best friend, and you will always have time for me!"

"Ouch! Ow! You're my- Jesus Mary and Joseph, stop!- Best friend! Bloody ow! I will always have time for -Merlin- you!" Abigail sniffed, returning to her seat with a victorious grin. "Please don't ever do that again," Harry whined, rubbing his chest where he was sure a fingertip sized bruise was forming. "That was _horrible_!"

"Oh, stop your crying. My mum does that to all of us all the time. It does not hurt _that_ bad."

"Your mother would never torture you like that."

"Torture? That's how she tells us she loves us. You don't want to see what she does when she's mad."

At the end of the day, Harry of course walked Abigail home. Her mother smiled brightly when she saw him through the door, crushing him against her ever-expanding belly. The four sisters giggled at him from the staircase, making kissy faces when Abigail led him back out of the house by hand. She shoved a small wrapped gift into his hands, making him promise not to open it until Christmas. Which Harry thought was super unfair, but he still promised to wait.

Once home, he ran through the muggle portion (which was still mostly destroyed), and into the Grand Hall. He didn't slow, taking the stairs two at a time until he burst into his bedroom. He instantly tore off his school clothes, tugging on new very warm clothing and snow boots. Today was the day!

Excitement coursed through him, making his steps turn into little hops as he ran to the kitchen. Jo and Poppy were waiting for him, the former clad in similar warm clothing with a saw by her feet. She perked up instantly, jumping to her feet with a smile. "I see you're ready to go."

Beaming, Harry knew he was bouncing on his toes, but he was just too excited to care. "Yeah, I got changed as soon as I got home. Are we going now? Please say we're going now." Jo chuckled in response.

"Yeah, kid. We're leaving right now." Harry whooped in response, turning and leading the other two out of the kitchen. The three made their way to the world room, Harry chattering on excitedly the whole way. Once there, Poppy took her place next to podium, turning the doors until it stopped on a doorway made of wood and ice. ' _Boreal forest'_ spelled itself across the top, glowing brightly as he and Jo stepped closer. "Remember, we have to be safe. Get it and get out before we freeze to death." Harry nodded, letting Jo take his hand as they stepped through the barrier and into the harsh winds and cold snow.

Instantly, they were assaulted by the frigid winds, burning their skin as they took in the beauty stretching for miles ahead of them. Pine trees towered around them, snow covered and sturdy against the harsh weather. Even in the cold, the pair were struck silent by the nature, the raw untouched magnificence. After some moments, Jo finally started walking them through the trees. Harry knew what he had to do, Jo had given him one specific important task, and he was ready to complete it. With a small smile, Jo released him from her grasp, watching as he inspected each tree with a critical eye.

' _It has to be perfect,_ ' Harry thought, dismissing the tree in front of him due to a large patch of dead needles. The next was too skinny. The one after too short. Not enough needles. Too tall. Too sharp.

They trudged along for twenty minutes before Harry finally spotted it. The perfect tree. It was almost 2.5 meters tall, at least four of Harry wide, not a brown or bare spot to be seen; only one test left. Harry reached out to touch the needles, his face set in serious concentration as he poked and prodded all around. Finally, he turned to Jo with a wide smile. "This one."

"You're sure it's absolutely perfect?" Jo smirked, squinting at the tree as she gave it a mock inspection. "Not a needle out of place, yeah?"

"It's perfect. That's our tree, Jo."

Nodding, Jo set to work on sawing the tree down. "You got the rope still, Mr. Tree Inspector?" Harry nodded, pulling the sturdy rope from his backpack. He watched with interest as Jo tied it around the tree in an intricate knot. Maybe he could get her to teach him next year. "Well, grab an end. We gotta drag this baby back."

Thankfully, the tree moved without much resistance, and they were able to retrace their steps back to the world door. Once inside, Poppy instantly descended on them. She sent the tree levitating away before casting warming spells on the shivering humans, pushing hot chocolates into their hands as she tutted and fluttered about. After they had been sufficiently warmed, Poppy finally released them to follow the tree back down to the Grand Hall.

Jo watched as Harry's face lit up in a dazzling smile at the sight of it. Poppy had set it inside a stand, right beside the fireplace. Boxes of ornaments were waiting to the side, ready for them to begin decorating. They didn't waste another moment before tinsel and brightly colored glass balls were flying around them. Red, green, yellow, blue, purple and pink assaulted their eyes as they lost themselves in the decorating. Harry giggled and danced with unbridled happiness when Poppy charmed floating lights to settle all over the tree. Finally, Jo lifted Harry with the star, which he placed with tender care on the very tippy top. When they stepped back to inspect their work, Jo had to agree with the kid. It was a pretty damn perfect tree. Well, almost. Clearing her throat, she made a show of turning her head side to side, frowning deeply. "Y'know, I think it's missing something."

"Oh no, what? I thought we had everything." Harry mimed her head tilting, trying to find the flaw she saw.

"Yep, definitely missing something." She gave the kid a smirk, withdrawing a small object from her pocket. She let it hang from her finger, a fine red ribbon keeping the little rectangle from falling to the ground. Harry looked at it confused for only a moment. A small smile slowly spread across his face and he nodded. Stepping forward, she hung the little gold rectangle directly in the center of the tree. "There, now it's perfect."

"Perfect," he agreed, leaning into her side. Harry, Poppy and Jo laughed and waved from inside the little frame. Harry had made Katherine take the picture on the day Jo had been released from hospital. Sometimes she forgot how happy that day had been.

Harry insisted on getting a picture of him, Poppy and Jo in front of the tree. It only made sense. It was _their_ tree, after all. He wanted to remember his first real tree of his first real Christmas with his first real family.

* * *

"Ah, I love this time of year," Ted Tonks sighed, enjoying a sip of hot chocolate. The room was bustling with chatter and laughter as everyone wished one another a Happy Christmas. Jo merely nodded, feeling especially drained after her and Harry's day of decorating the entire Grand Hall. Plus, she had talked much more than usual tonight, and her emotional stores needed rest. "What are you doing for the holidays, Jo?"

She didn't answer right away, merely continued watching as people milled about near the doorway. "It's my first Christmas sober in nearly a decade. I'm actually a bit nervous, seeing as it's Harry's first Christmas as well. I'm trying to make it perfect."

Ah yes, the illustrious Harry, thought Ted. Jo had spoken about him a few times, always vague in how she came about having a young boy living with her. He knew this Harry wasn't her son. Perhaps a cousin? Maybe a nephew? No, he had already thought of that one. Jo's brother had died much too young to have had a child. He had still been in Hogwarts. All he knew for sure was that this mysterious child had had a terribly neglected childhood, and that Jo was trying to give him a better life. Which, as it turns out, is one of the greatest motivators for sobriety that he has ever seen. He should know, his Dora was one of, if not _the_ , biggest motivation for his own sober years.

"And how would you describe a perfect Christmas, Jo?"

She didn't answer. He watched as she fiddled with the small token in her hand. Her fingernail traced the engraved ' _One Month Sober'_. Finally, she just offered a small smile and a quiet 'Happy Christmas, Ted', then she was gone. He watched as she struggled through the group in the door, being stopped many times over as they individually wished her a Happy Christmas. He hoped she truly did have a perfectly happy Christmas. Holidays were always the hardest times for people like them.

* * *

"G'dmmit, go away Patch," Jo mumbled, rolling away from the whiskers tickling her face. Harry and Poppy tried to smother their giggles, feathers in hand as they re-positioned for another attack. Still mostly asleep, Jo groaned and whined as she continued rolling away. Finally, the patience of an eight year old being quite thin, Harry threw down his feather in lieu of diving onto the sleeping woman.

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS, JO!" All he got in response was a loud groan, muffled within the pillow.

" 'appy brismus, bid." Giggling, he rolled away as Jo turned, squinting up at him from beneath her hair. "What time is it?" She squinted even more when Harry looked away bashfully, tugging at a loose thread on her blanket. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like five thirty. "Is the sun up?"

"No, My Mistress."

Groaning again, Jo buried her head back into her pillow. "Then it's not Christmas yet."

Finally, after much more dog-piling and yells of 'IT IS CHRISTMAS, JO!', the witch drug herself from the bed. She followed the practically skipping house elf and child at a sluggish pace, dragging her feet and groaning the whole way. Merlin, she needed coffee. When she finally arrived to the Grand Hall, she had to stop and blink. Where did all of those presents come from? They had definitely not been there last night, she should know she had been up til nearly two in the morning arranging gifts with Poppy under the tree.

She slumped onto the floor next to Harry, fingering a few name tags of the unknown gifts; 'To: My Favorite Patient, Mr. Harry, and Miss Poppy From: Gabriel Nyaga', 'To: Jo From: The Tonks', 'To: Jo From: Katherine', 'To: Harry From: Katherine', and 'To: Poppy From: Katherine'. Raising an eyebrow, she could only let out a humored snort, lips lifting in genuine surprise at the kind gestures. Of course, Poppy thankfully had insisted she get all of these people gifts, but she hadn't been expecting anything in return. She didn't really deserve it.

After a few moments, she looked up to notice neither Poppy not Harry had made a move on the gift pile. "Well, who's getting the first present?" Harry was nearly vibrating with barely contained excitement, but surprisingly, he pointed to Poppy. She waved him on, prompting him to dive under the tree for a small, horribly wrapped gift. Unfortunately for the three, only Poppy was any good at wrapping, and that was only thanks to magic. There were many lumpy and over-taped gifts under their tree.

"Here you go, Poppy. This one's from me!" He pressed the gift into the little elf's hands, smiling excitedly as she delicately began undoing the paper. She pulled from it a small, bright purple apron embroidered in white, 'What the Cook Says, Goes!'. Poppy sniffed daintily, smiling widely as she read the fabric. "It be true, Young Harry. Thank you." She smiled brightly again, holding the apron next to her face when the boy insisted on a picture.

Harry disappeared under the tree again, returning from the depths with a large box. 'Poppy' was scrawled messily across it in what looked like marker. Poppy gave her Mistress an exasperated face, but Jo only rasped out a laugh. Inside was an entire new wardrobe, filled with pinks, yellows, purples; every color of the rainbow. Underneath all of the clothing were two brand new cookbooks, a wizard and a muggle author. The house elf hugged them both tightly, trying to hide the sudden mist in her eyes. She might be a freer elf than most, allowed to express her feelings and opinions, but she was still a house elf under all of that sass. She was truly touched by her Mistress and Young Master's generosity.

The gift for the house elf from Katherine turned out to be a brand new set of stainless steel cooking spoons and spatulas, along with some fluffy new oven mitts. The house elf was confused by the metal utensils until Jo explained they were new and 'all the rage' in the muggle world. "This be too expensive, we must send Miss Katherine another gift!" After many assurances that they would send Katherine another gift, Jo set her sights on the gifts labeled for Harry.

Harry watched as the pile beside him continued to grow as Jo kept re-emerging from beneath the tree with more and more gifts. For him! He didn't know what to feel when the entire pile of twelve gifts sat around him like a small fort. Never before had he received anything on Christmas, not counting paperclips, used socks, and loose change. His wide eyes flickered between all the gifts.

"Hey." Jo's voice sounded far away, like it was muffled in her pillow again. "…Harry."

His eyes snapped up, and he was surprised to realize his breathing had turned irregular, as if he had just run up and down all the stairs in the house. Jo was looking at him with worry, a frown tugging at her lips as she gently pushed his shoulders down from his ears. Her fingers raked through his hair, and he found himself leaning into her touch. He found his voice now that his attention was officially distracted from the monstrous pile of gifts. "T-these are all for _me_?!"

The witch's lips tugged up, her small smile relieving the tightly wound coil in his stomach. "Of course, it's Christmas, y'know." He felt his hands get filled with a small package, it squished in his grasp. "I know this is your…I know this isn't what you're used to, but I promise all of these gifts are for you, from people that care about you. This is what Christmas is supposed to look like." He nodded, finally looking down at the small gift wrapped in a royal red paper. It was from Katherine. Slowly, following Poppy's lead, he gingerly lifted the edge of the paper and ripped it away. A small golden lion smiled at him from within, roaring once it was finally unwrapped. Jo let out a breath of relief when his anxious face smoothed into another brilliant smile.

"Hey, kid. Show me what you got," She quickly held up the camera, catching his bright smile while the lion roared next to his face. "Well, those presents aren't gonna unwrap themselves. Get to it." And like an eight year old is supposed to, Harry made quick work of the pile, wrapping paper flying through the air like confetti. He laughed and posed with each gift, even the new pack of socks and undies from Poppy.

Jo finally called for a small break, declaring she desperately needed coffee or else she would die. Harry took that time to survey all the gifts he had opened. Jo and Poppy had gotten him lots; a new training broom, a new set of practice quidditch balls, some wizarding books, quite a few items of clothing, a large batch of candy (both muggle and wizard), a box of games (checkers, chess, and some he had never seen before), a gryffindor scarf, and a book all about the how to's of photography. Abigail had given him a new hackey sack and filled the rest of the box with candy. Lenny had send a graphic novel, ' _When The Wind Blows'._ He was absolutely beside himself with all of it, but absolutely happy and grateful for all the new things. Things that were his! It was a new feeling, one that he didn't mind.

Once Jo had returned, holding a steaming mug appreciatively, Harry noticed she had two small packages in her other hand. She passed them to him gently, and he could tell instantly that the larger of the two was fragile. He gave her a questioning look, realizing she was very serious about these gifts as compared to the others. With the same ginger touch he had used with the first gift, he unwrapped the smallest gift first. He was surprised when a small token, the size of a coin, fell into his hand. It was engraved ' _One Month Sober_ '. Jo coughed awkwardly, but held his gaze with an intensity.

"I just got that, last night actually. I was hoping that you would keep it safe, as a reminder for me…that you would always know that you're my-" She cut off, making a bit of a choking noise as she willed herself not to get emotional. "You're my reason to be better."

Harry looked both touched and concerned, spinning the token between his fingers as he inspected it closely. "I didn't realize…time's gone by so fast." He looked up, his lips stretched wide as pride and joy filled his little chest for Jo. "Congratulations!" Jo looked about ready to cry, holding her arms out for a big hug that Harry happily climbed into. "I'm so proud of you," Harry whispered, clutching her with as much strength as he could. She choked a laugh, giving him one final squeeze before pulling back. "I love you, Jo."

"I love you too, kid. So very much," Jo rasped through the thick emotion clogging her throat, trying to wipe away her tears and smile. "You are the best thing to ever happen to me. Now, open that last gift before I start crying again."

Harry eagerly unwrapped the final gift, smiling happily at the framed photograph of him and Jo in the hospital. Their very first picture together. He decided right then and there, Christmas was his favorite holiday ever.


	14. Chapter 14 Dreams

**Jesus christ, you guys are spoiling me here. Thank you so much for the reviews and continued support. I sincerely hope everyone is still liking what I'm throwing out here, haha. I know the beginnings are always slow, and just this nonstop build of information; but I really really am trying not to make mess of this. Oh, and BTW FALLING-ANGEL24, I have the strangest love of anytime the word YEET is used, so thank you for that (and for all the reviews, they really do make me smile).**

 **xcherry91x, essie the fangirl, and KEB: A giant welcome, and so happy you guys found the story and liked it enough to keep reading.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy!**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

 **Dreams**

 **31 December 1988-January 1989**

* * *

 **"It's weird when you wake from a bad dream and everything is still bad" -Todd Strasser**

* * *

 **X**

Harry and Toffy sprawled across Jo's bed, watching the small glass orb roll back and forth between the boy's hands. Inside sat a bird made of fiery reds and oranges, gold plumage along its chest, and tail feathers of deep purples and blues. It would spread its wings, the tips almost touching the glass. Gold eyes made of lava stared at them as it opened its black beak in a soundless screech. Then _poof!,_ it would erupt into flames, only a small pile of ashes left in its place. 'A pheonix,' Jo had called it, her face confused and troubled when she had revealed the gift sent from Healer Nyaga. It was Harry's newest obsession. He loved watching as the new baby bird popped out from the ash and grew back into the regal grown pheonix.

"Well, I think this is as good as it's gonna get. What d'ya think, kid?" He looked up, smiling brightly once he saw Jo in her blue jeans and nice gold top. A pair of '1989' glass sat across her nose, and she held out a matching pair for him. "Ready to party like it's 1989?"

Jo had declined Ted Tonks' invite to his annual New Year party. He had informed her that he and his wife held a sober party every year for members and close family and friends. It was smart, the holidays are a booze central time, and even Jo, secluded from everyone and everything, was having a hard time avoiding it. However, she had already made plans to take Harry out for his first ever New Year celebration. Especially after he had quietly admitted to always wanting to see the fireworks.

After promising Poppy, countless times, that they would be safe and home at twelve-oh-five on the dot, the two were finally allowed through the world door. Harry rushed through, looking around in obvious confusion at the dark grassy hill they had landed on. "Where are we, Jo? I thought we were going to London."

"Primrose Hill, one of the best and most heavily warded spots to watch the New Year fireworks." From the satchel on her hip, Jo pulled a large blanket and laid it on the grass. She and Harry sat beside one another as she continued pulling items from the bag. "Hot chocolate," she waved the thermos. "Ooh, muggle sparklers and wizard poppers, and of course, Treacle Tart for you," giggling, Harry eagerly relieved her of the dessert. "And chocolate cake for me. She bloody spoils us. We're gonna get fat if we let her keep this up."

"I don't think she'd let us get _fat-fat_."

Smirking, Jo just shrugged and dug into her cake. She pointed out a few families that had begun appearing around them, urging Harry to go and see if the other children might play with him. He resolutely refused. "I want to celebrate with you." He looked up at her with those big earnest green eyes, and she relented, feeling a warmth erupt inside her chest. It felt better than any sip of whiskey ever had. "Alright, kid. Well, what first? Sparklers? Poppers?"

"Sparklers. I want to save the poppers for last." Carefully, just like her father had done for them every year, she lit the end of the stick and warned the kid not to burn himself. She let herself smile like a content old fool, just enjoying watching Harry run and swing his arms about, making crazy designs in the air. Once he exhausted the supply of sparklers, they moved to the poppers.

"Okay, so you pull up the wick," Harry nodded eagerly, mimicking her actions on his own red popper. "Find a fairly flat area away from your flammable blanket," they set the poppers on the ground, "Annnd-" Jo quickly lit the wicks. "Now we run." They ran backwards, laughing as they stumbled and slipped, watching as the red and purple poppers began to bubble up into the shape of volcanoes. Soon, sparks began to shoot from the tops, erupting into tiny red and purple shooting stars and snapping dragons. Pops echoed through the air as each design fizzled out of existence with a flare.

"That was amazing!" Harry laughed and whooped, already scooping up more poppers from the pile. Jo let him handle the next ones on his own, still chuckling to herself as little multicolored flares lit up the dark hill. He looked so happy, so much like the child he should be. She didn't want to see it end. Fumbling around inside the satchel, she pulled out her old camera and snapped at least a dozen pictures of the kid surrounded by fairies and dragons. Too soon, the poppers were all gone, and Harry returned to the blanket, eagerly accepting a mug of hot chocolate. They still had twenty minutes until the fireworks began.

Harry watched Jo observe the surrounding people, her face clear and relaxed with a small smile crinkling her eyes. It was hard to put into words how much yet how little Jo had changed over the last month. In the beginning days, she seemed slow, worn down and tired, and Harry would worry incessantly that she would have to go back to the hospital. However, day by day, he had noticed her smiling a little more, her mornings less plagued with headaches. Then she had begun reading, a lot, and telling him stories about her past or the myth behind a painting. She had taken him to museums, both magical and muggle, random facts about exhibits falling from her mouth. They had gone to a carnival, and she had laughed and danced with him, trying game after game to win him a prize. Beaches, parks, shopping centers, and little wizarding villages; she seemed more alive than he had ever seen her. And every night, she would read a Potter journal with him, uncovering his family's story page by page.

And she would answer his questions. Of course, Harry knew she sometimes gave edited answers, and other times, she would flat out tell him he didn't need to know. He never pushed those questions. Partly, because he knew that she would tell him when she thought he was ready. The other part of him was afraid, scared to push her into hurting herself again or trying to drink again. However, as an eight year old, Harry sometimes didn't think through his questions before asking them, and whether or not it was right to ask them. Like now.

"How come you never talk about your family?" And as per usual, only after the words had already slipped out, Harry thought perhaps he shouldn't have asked it. Jo didn't answer at first, still watching as a family of four played with their own sparklers. He heard her sigh through her nose, turning to face him with a soft smile.

"My father used to bring my brother and I here, when we were little." Her voice was soft, her words a secret between them as Harry leaned in closer. "Rodney, my brother, always loved watching the fireworks. Always screeched and cried when we would leave even if the fireworks had been over for a while. He was three years younger than me, and a right spoiled brat, but he was a good kid. He always shared his sparklers and poppers with other kids, and our food." She laughed, remembering her father running after a toddling Rodney as he tried to force feed a wizard cake. "He died, though, young, during the height of the war, as did both of my parents." She shrugged then, her face morphing into thought as she tried to find the right words for her feelings. "I don't…try to avoid talking about them. It's just…I…remember them, constantly. Everywhere in the house is a memory of one or all of them playing inside my head."

She gave him this look then, the look that said she was going to say something he might not grasp yet. "Sometimes, I think I'm the only one that does remember them. Not that Poppy doesn't, I mean just that…I remember _them_. I feel like once someone dies, they're remembered only as some perfect version, a rose-tinted camouflage, and I feel like I remember everything bad and ugly just as well as the good. Sometimes people don't want to hear those parts."

Harry thought on that for a minute, nibbling on his treacle tart while Jo tinkered with the camera in her lap. "Do you suppose that's how people remember my parents? As only war heroes, not as the people they were?"

"Only the people who didn't know them, I think. Don't take this too offensively, but I remember a good amount of stupid things your father did in school, and the way your mother would about bring the whole castle down screaming at him afterwards." Jo chuckled, bumping her shoulder with his, glad her knowing the Potters had given her memories to share with him. "Your parents had very big personalities that would be hard to ever forget or cover up."

He smiled at that, ducking his head a bit. Hearing about them always made him happy. "What about your parents? What were they like?"

"Well, my mother was…strict, very strict, and stand-offish. She loved us, in her own way, she just wanted us to be respectable and proper, to take on certain pre-approved roles in the world. She…." Jo let her words trail off, lost in the wind at the memory of a woman who had died thinking her daughter a disgrace. "She loved us and that's what mattered in the end. My father, though, was completely opposite. Warm, comforting, a big ol' teddy bear really. We had him wrapped around our fingers. He would take us anywhere, anytime we asked. Spoiled us rotten, is what he did. I suppose they balanced each other out." Harry watched Jo, that little tickle of jealousy in his stomach as she smiled softly at the memories in her head. He tried not to show it, tried to smile and chuckle along, but he couldn't bring himself to really try anymore when Jo finally gave him a scrutinizing look. She didn't have to ask, so she just ruffled his hair gently and offered a small smile.

"Ah, it's about that time," Jo tapped her watch, leaning back to stare up at the sky. Harry started bouncing excitedly beside her, anxiously searching the sky with squinted eyes for any signs of sparks in the sky. They didn't have to wait long as a high whistle resounded through the air. Bright red lights exploded high above them, a **boom** echoing back down to earth. As it began to shower down, twinkling out of existence, a starburst of blue and green took its place. She watched the awe come alive on his face, the perfect picture of childlike curiosity and amazement. The ghost of a blue eyed, pale blonde haired boy sat behind her eyes, staring up at the sky equally as amazed and entranced by the muggle ingenuity.

"Happy New Year, kid." Her words were lost in the cacophony of fireworks overhead, but Harry still gave her his brilliant smile when a particularly large shower of silver lit up the sky. That was more than enough for her.

* * *

"And this is where you cook, yes?" Poppy absolutely glared up at the balding healer, snatching her frying pan from his skeletal fingers with a huff. "Yes, this be Poppy's kitchen."

"Hmm…" He inspected the stove top, the lenses on his glasses zooming in to inspect the spotless burners. " _Interesting_."

Poppy turned her glare on Jo, who was unsuccessfully trying to cover up her chuckles behind a mug of coffee. He was admittedly much more amusing to watch work when his insanity wasn't focused on her. The house elf looked ready to commit murder after nearly two hours of the man's incessant 'And this is where you….? Hmm… _interesting_.'. Bless her, Jo thought as Healer Wolff began swabbing the inside of the oven with a Q-tip. The man had at least a hundred of those little buggers labeled and ready to research, stored inside his medical bag from many sources of the house. Plus, three vials of toilet water, and cups full of bits he had scraped from the walls and floors.

"I must say, Miss Delacroix, your house is absolutely enthralling. If I wasn't so busy with cases, I would absolutely insist on exploring this place top to bottom. It is just so…so… _außergewöhnlich_!" Wide eyed, hands waving slightly around, the healer easily stepped around the huffing house elf and started for the doorway. "But, such is life, yes? Now, I believe there is only one final place I must examine."

Jo and Poppy shared a groan, trailing after the healer as he stooped beside yet another flowering wall to poke and prod at the leaves. After a long minute of the man not budging from the plant, Jo let out a pointed cough. "Ahem, yes, where were we?"

"The final room," the witch sighed, more than ready for the man to finally leave.

"Ah yes! Now, which room was your magical expulsion?" Poppy remained in the magical upstairs, still unable to bring herself to enter the muggle portion, as Jo led the man down the stairs. She heard as he sucked in a breath, obviously surprised by the columns of jagged earth and broken walls waiting to greet them. Remaining on the final stair, she observed as he approached the destruction with a look of deep concentration. "Unerhört," he whispered, waving his wand across a particularly large chunk of earth. The tip of his wand began to glow, a soft yellow light illuminating his puzzled face. " _Unerhört."_

Jo's eyebrows lifted in surprise when the man suddenly sprung into a flurry of action, his face serious and movements tellingly anxious. "Miss Delacroix, starting effective immediately," he sliced off a particularly large piece of rock. "You are to no longer take any potions, not even the core-nourisher." Gently, he levitated the small boulder into a plastic bag. "Nein, no more potions."

His nervousness, _amazingly_ , did not comfort Jo in the slightest. "And why is that?"

"Because I believe Healer Nyaga's theory might have been correct." Those pale bug eyes finally fell on her, and for once, her healer did not look manic. He looked deeply concerned. "I believe, Miss Delacroix, that your core is not malfunctioning nor is it broken. I believe it is being blocked." Turning away from her, he began to slowly move through the wreckage, his wand carefully scanning each piece of dirt and rock. "Which, if I am correct, means that I am of no help to you."

"Then who is?" He didn't respond, only continued his surveying of the room with a deep concentration. "Healer Wolff, who **is**?"

In the end, he never did answer her question. She and Poppy were informed he would send word once his tests were completed, and she was commanded once again to completely halt any consumption of potions. Then, with a final inquisitive inspection of a tree root near the fireplace, the man was gone. Frustrated with _everything_ , Jo decided she was in need of some air and left. Somehow, as was common now-a-days for the ash haired woman, she found herself just in time for the afternoon AA meeting.

As she listened to the other members speak, her stomach knotted itself in barely concealed panic as she realized that no potions meant no dreamless sleep.

* * *

It felt like she had only just closed her eyes. Her mind slow and foggy as her brain processed the foreign yet deeply familiar sound permeating the air. Eyebrows creasing together, she tried to ignore the noise even as her brain registered it as important. Merlin, she was exhausted. She just needed a few more minutes. The source of the noise had apparently heard her plea, and the abrupt silence comforted her, wrapping around her as snug as the blankets.

The bed shifted, the warm body beside her turning to encompass her within its larger embrace. An arm, nearly thicker than her own head, wrapped around her stomach, squeezing her back into the furnace of a chest. She sighed, content and beyond comfortable. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so relaxed. Oh, she had missed this.

Chapped lips were peppering against her shoulder, curving into a smile when she grumbled and squirmed. The sound that had awoken her was starting again, quiet but still demanding attention. She could feel the body behind her shake with a silent laugh. He always did find annoying her amusing.

"Shu' up, you knob. 'M trying to sleep." He didn't respond, and the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. She could feel his stare, boring into the vulnerable nape of her neck where her vertebrate knobbed out. The sound, a wail, was suddenly much closer, louder. It echoed inside her skull, piercing and _painful_.

" _ **Sweetheart,**_ " he murmured against the shell of her ear, and she could feel his lips turning to ash over her skin, raining into her ear canal. It wasn't _his_ voice. She clenched her jaw, keeping her eyes firmly shut as her heart skipped a beat. She didn't want to see _them_. She _couldn't_. Her chest seized, the icy cold making breathing nearly impossible. She knew what _he_ was going to say. _**"The baby."**_

" **NO!** " Crystal eyes blown wide, Jo shot up from her bed with the shout. Her voice cracked, throat dry and itching. She tried to take a breath, panic shaking her limbs as she looked around the room. Manic, that's how she felt as her head swung back and forth, eyes jumping from shadow to shadow in fear. Falling onto her hands and knees beside the large bed, she ignored the dogs clambering around her as she literally crawled from her bedroom. "No no no no no no no-" her whispers followed her, shaking and _afraid_ , as she drug herself down the hallway.

 _ **But the baby. Aren't you worried about the baby?**_

"Sh-shut up. I c-can't-"

 **Oh, you poor soul. You can't even bear it, can you? You can't even stand to dream about-**

The woman fell then, crumbling to the ground with a howling sob. She ground the heels of her hands against her ears, trying to block the whispers inside of her own head. Her eyes screwed shut, star flares popping behind the lids as she tried to dam the wetness from falling. " _Please_ , not n-now."

 **But dearest, don't you see. Now, you have to remember. You have to see them. Face them.**

Jo shook her head, gulping in air that wouldn't come. She couldn't. She could never face them.

 **Own it, you pathetic worm. OWN IT!**

Her loud wails woke Poppy. It drew the house elf out of her bed at speed, nearly stumbling over the broken woman in the hall. Her Mistress tried to send her away, snarling at her through tears and heavy breaths. Crystalline eyes that had finally started to spark with life and laughter again were once again dull, drowning under waves of grief and fear. She forced the panicked woman back to bed, ignoring the shouts and whispers, howling sobs and gutteral growls, as she sat stoically beside her mess of a mistress through the night.

" _Please_ , _I only need a little. Just enough to sleep!"_

" _I thought you cared about me."_

" _You don't understand, I need it!"_

" _I don't want to see them. It hurts, it hurts, it_ _ **hurts**_ _-"_

" _You promised you would fucking help me!"_

" _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you-"_

" _Please, Poppy, just one bottle. I know you left at least one,_ _ **please**_ _!_ "

* * *

Harry looked at Poppy and Jo with concern. They both looked incredibly tired as they ate breakfast, Poppy's ears drooping so deeply they almost dipped into her orange juice. Jo had offered him a squint eyed more-of-a-grimace smile, and slumped back against the counter. The witch and house elf hadn't shared a single word with one another. "Are you two okay?"

"Couldn't sleep-"

"Doxies in the art gallery-"

Jo and Poppy shared an awkward stare. Sighing, Jo turned back to her newspaper. "I couldn't sleep, and Poppy was busy with doxies on the art floor." Both of the boy's eyebrows rose in confusion when the house elf turned a deep purple, her lips clamped firmly shut as her head twitched in what could possibly be a nod. "How did you sleep, kid?"

"Oh, great. Thanks for the new pajamas, Poppy. They were so soft," he smiled brightly at the house elf. She squeaked, something along the lines of 'You's be welcome' caught in the high pitches leaving her lips. Jo nudged the house elf, scowling at the newspaper. "Are you two sure you're alri-"

"POPPY JUST BE TIRED FROM THE DOXIES!" The house elf's eyes widened in horror as she clamped her mouth shut again. Harry was town between being concerned for the house elf or trying not to laugh at her twisted up and guilty face. Jo grumbled and rubbed her forehead, staring down the house elf with an exasperated expression. "…sorry…"

Coughing, Jo brought the kid's wide eyes back to her. "Last night was my first night without those potions, and I just had a…rough night. Poppy got roped into dealing with me. That's all. No worries, we're just tired." She finally smiled, trying to ease him of his worry. It apparently worked when his face relaxed again. Soon enough, he was talking about what he wanted to do that day, asking if they could go out for a bit. Jo quickly agreed, desperately in need of distance from the house. Poppy gave her a suspicious side eye, and shame flared to life inside her chest. She definitely deserved it. "I'd actually like to visit someone today, if you're up for it."

* * *

"Nymphadora Tonks, get out of bed, now. It's nearly noon already, and you are not permitted to sleep the entire day away just because you're on holiday." Curtains were pulled back roughly, illuminating the dark room in bright sunlight. The purple hair sticking up from beneath the quilt, the only body part Andromeda could see, instantly turned a vibrant red.

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" The fourteen year old shot up with a vengeance, glaring daggers at her mother. Andromeda merely rolled her eyes, tugging the blanket off of her daughter as she turned for the door. "Mother, I'm serious! Don't call me that!"

"Then you best get out of bed, Nymphadora." She waited until she was in the hallway, the door slammed shut behind her by the huffing teenager inside, before letting her well practiced ' _mother means business_ ' mask fall away. A smirk slowly spread across her lips as she gave her husband a smug look. He just sighed, throwing his head back in yet another defeat. Her smirk slid into an easy smile when he winked and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I should know better than to bet against you by now."

"You should. I was a Slytherin after all." She gave him an awfully haughty look, staring down the bridge of her nose at him as he merely laughed at her.

"Yes, yes." He smiled easily, a good sport after all this time. "And what would the winner like for brunch, my love?"

She pressed a finger to her chin, her face morphing into one of deep thought as she exaggeratedly tilted her head to and fro. Ted's smile softened, a wistful sigh escaping his lips as he watched his wife. She grew more beautiful with each day, he was sure of it. Those grey eyes that sparkled with mischief and laughter, the kiss mark that dimpled with her smiles and smirks, her tiny little nose that wrinkled and twitched when she read, even the beginnings of crows feet and the grey hair he would never admit to seeing; merlin, she was gorgeous.

He felt his heart swell, proud to call this woman his wife, and the desire to snog her like a teenager couldn't be tempered this time. "I think waffles sound amaz-" Her eyes widened in surprise when he suddenly pulled her forward, pressing a deep kiss full of love onto her lips. Giddiness bubbled to life inside of him when she smiled into the kiss, returning it with equal passion.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Your bedroom is literally right there!"

Andromeda snorted, pulling away with a smirk as her husband released a deep bellied guffaw. It was the only way he knew how to laugh, and she adored it. Dora was scowling at them fiercely as only a teenager could, her hair an electric pink. "Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you awake. Your father was just about to prepare a late brunch!"

"Are you making waffles?!"

"Of course I am! Merlin, I'm so excited to use that waffle-press your Grandmother sent!" Andromeda chuckled softly, warmly watching as her hufflepuffs ran for the kitchen, Dora knocking over a lamp and Ted a stack of books. She just waved them away when they turned back with equally guilty faces. With a wave of her wand, the mess was cleared away, and she made her way to the kitchen, cracking open a book to keep herself from hovering around the two. This was going to take a while.

Andromeda perked up instantly at the sound of a knock on their door. Dora and Ted were oblivious, both covered in flour and egg as they _attempted_ to make waffles. This was their third try. Silently, she placed a marker in her book, and left the kitchen to see who could possibly be visiting. Raised both as a Black and Slytherin, she schooled her face from showing surprise when the door swung open to reveal Josephine Delacroix and a young boy that looked remarkably like James Potter.

"Good morning, Mrs. Tonks. Ted wouldn't happen to be in, would he?" The older woman scrutinized the young woman on her stoop, her eyebrow rising slightly. Jo tried to keep the nervousness from her face, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets when she realized she had begun twisting her fingers together. Harry shuffled beside her, peeking between her and Mrs. Tonks in concern. "Sorry, if this is a bad time. Ted told me to reach out when I'm… _overwhelmed_."

 _Oh_ , Andromeda had not been expecting that. Of course, she knew about Ted's members, in the vaguest sense. He never revealed names when he spoke of them. "Right, yes of course. I'm sorry, I didn't realize. Do come in. Don't mind the mess, I have a teenage daughter," she informed them dryly, picking a hufflepuff tie from the couch arm. Jo felt her lips tilt up in amusement, the nerves in her stomach unwinding slightly as she took in the absolutely wrecked den. Parchment, obviously homework, was spread all over with textbooks and quills. "Let me fetch Ted. Please, make yourselves comfortable. You can push her things onto the floor. Trust me, she won't mind."

* * *

Harry stared in awe as the teenage girl's hair changed from pink to blue to yellow then back to pink. Laughter burst from his lips when she turned to face him, eyes crossed with a duck's bill replacing her upper lip. "Wha'th? Ith there somfink awn mah fathe?" The little boy just descended into more laughter, tears starting to gather in the corner of his eyes. Satisfied with her work, Dora let her face return to normal. She had been working on that duck bill all semester after all.

 _See_ , she thought smugly, _I can totally handle babysitting. Take that, Charlie Weasley!_ The Gryffindor had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was the worst and final choice he would ever let near children unsupervised. Only forty minutes in and she was a pro! Although, Harry seemed of a much milder and sweeter type as compared to the heathens Charlie described as his siblings.

"Did you want some more waffles?" Dora sat up excitedly, hoping he would say yes. She wanted to try adding fruit this time!

"Oh, eh, I'm stuffed actually, but thank you, Tonks."

"Well, wanna play-"

They both looked up, surprised when Ted hurriedly entered the kitchen. Harry peeked through the open door, finding Jo sat where he had left her, head buried in her hands and hunched over. When he tried to stand, intent on comforting her, the girl beside him gripped his arm gently. She shook her head silently, flicking her eyes towards her father who was rifling through a drawer behind her.

"Ah, found it. Wotcher, Harry. Dora's treating you alright?" Ted gave the two youths an easy smile, circling back around the kitchen to the doorway. Harry gave him a skeptical look, but nodded slowly when Tonk's gave him a wide-eyed pleading face. "Wonderful. Jo and I will only be a moment more." He went to step back through the door, but seemed to have another thought. Leaning back around, he gave Dora as stern a look as he could muster. "Don't even think about trying to cook by yourself."

"Oy, I can cook!"

Harry had a feeling that Tonks probably couldn't cook. He gave her a forced smile when she turned her red eyes on him, her hair quickly fading from pink to red.

"I swear I can!"

* * *

"Thanks again, Ted. I'm sorry for invading your home." Of course, Ted only waved Jo off, smiling easily. " S'not a problem at all, Josephine. I'd rather you reach out, and I'm glad you felt you could trust me. Please, feel free to invade or floo call anytime you need." She nodded gratefully, offering an awkward smile over his shoulder to Andromeda and their daughter. The older woman offered a small smile and nod while the teenager smiled brightly and waved enthusiastically to Harry. Jo snorted when the girl hit a picture from the wall, her mother rolling her eyes as she quickly repaired it.

"Be sure to update me once you've decided. Many of them are acquaintances, and I could easily speak to one about getting you in quickly." Promising she would, she and Harry shared another goodbye with the Tonks before finally setting off. Harry instantly launched into how much fun he'd had with 'Tonks', and how he hoped he would get to see her again. And 'do you know what a metamorphmagus is? Tonks is one!'. It seems her little boy might be a tad enamored by the young hufflepuff, Jo thought as he continued to talk about the girl.

"Hey, wanna go to _The Simple Place_?," she interrupted him, smirking slightly at his pink cheeks. Of course, he agreed easily before quickly falling back onto his new favorite topic.

Neither of them noticed as Andromeda watched them walk down the street, her face in deep thought. A picture of James Potter and Sirius Black sat beside her on the mantle, the two teenagers posing outlandishly beside Ted on their wedding day.


	15. Chapter 15 Home

**So, not gonna lie. Kind of hate the previous chapter. I've gone back to it repeatedly this last week, trying to rework it and make it, well, just better. I'm sincerely stuck, though. So one day, _eventually,_ that will be revamped. I'll give some sort of heads up when that day comes, haha. As always, I'm eternally grateful for all the follows, favorites and reviews. **

**Hope you enjoy**

 **~Ghostdoor**

 **Chapter 15**

 **January 1989**

* * *

 **"Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for you entire life, wherever you may go." -Sarah Dessen, _What Happened To Goodbye_**

* * *

 **X**

The end of the holidays found Harry bundled from head to toe, a scarf of red and gold wrapped around his neck as Jo walked him to school. Abigail was waving like a maniac from the gate, equally marshmallowed beneath a coat and hat. She ran up to them once they had crossed the road, her pink cheeks stretched into a bright smile. "Happy New Year! How was your holiday?! Mine was great! My mum had the baby, in case you're wondering. And wouldn't you know it, it's a boy!"

"Is it really? Congratulations! What's his name?" Struggling on the icy concrete, Harry readjusted his bag as he stepped closer to his friend. Jo stopped a couple steps away, just watching the two children catch up. She was a bit curious about his friend, seeing as they had never properly been introduced. "Oh, Jo did I tell you Mrs. Moss was having a baby?"

"He's so little! Doesn't really do much except sleep and cry, mama told me that's how babies are, though. His name's Asahi Owen. Mama and Papa had a very loud fight over what his name should be," Abigail giggled, digging into her pocket to show them the polaroid of her and her sisters around the baby swaddled in blue, snuggled inside a bassinet. Jo and Harry smiled, squishing together to look at the little photograph.

"Name's are very important. They define us for the rest of our lives." The ash haired woman gave the small girl another smile before standing straight. "What does your name mean?"

"Wellll," the girl sucked air through her teeth, unsure. "My full name is Abigail Jun. I know that Jun means pure, I'm not sure about Abigail." Realizing exactly who she was talking to, Abigail suddenly grew a bit shy, still guilty from the row she had with Harry. "What about your name, Miss Jo?"

"Hmm," humming, Jo tried to hide her amusement of the girl's sudden change in demeanor. "My full name is Josephine Cypress. Josephine is Addition to the family, and Cypress is Understanding the role of sacrifice. Nothing special, really. My family has a strange tradition of making the middle name a plant or tree."

"What about my name?" Harry piped in, curious if his name really did describe him. A chime suddenly echoed through the air, disrupting the three as children began swarming towards the school. "I'll tell ya later, kid. Have a good day, you two!" Jo waved them off, burrowing her nose into the scarf around her neck as a biting wind swept past them. They waved as they ran, both of them nearly falling on another ice patch. She waited until they were safe inside the school before setting back off, opting for the long way around even in the cold.

Her mind felt heavy, stuffed full of worries. That's all she seemed capable of doing anymore, worrying herself. No planning or devising, no retention of information, just this jumble of anxious thoughts popping out at her one after another. She didn't know where or how to start with it all. Should she start with the magic? How can she when she doesn't even know what's going on. Her core is blocked. What does that even mean? She doesn't know, and every time she cracks open a book, she feels too _exhausted_ to find out.

What about Harry? What was she to do about him? He really shouldn't be staying with her, but she can't even fathom not having him around now. Wouldn't that be the responsible thing to do, send him somewhere safer? Somewhere healthier, where there wasn't a raging alcoholic who can't even sleep. Wouldn't she now be considered nearly as bad an influence as, if not worse than, the Dursleys? Of course, she knows it would be the responsible thing, the adult thing to do, but it just doesn't feel like the _right_ thing to do. Wouldn't it be, though? Dumbledore seems to think so. She just couldn't stomach it. She had made a promise, and really, blood or not, he was her kid now. You can't abandon family.

Perhaps she should address the fact that she can't fucking sleep. That her mind is plagued by dark whispers and horrible dreams.

No.

 _Perhaps not_ , she thought, her lips twisting into a humorless smirk. She'd rather try to tame a wild hippogriff that could breathe fire, if she were being honest. "Which," she sighed deeply, fingering the business cards in her pocket that Ted Tonks had given her, "Is exactly why I should start there."

Not quite yet, though. She was enjoying the fresh and chilled air. Her mind felt numb and quiet.

When she finally returned home, surprise was one of the milder emotions running through her when she saw Andromeda Tonks standing on her porch. Her dark hair pulled into a tight and perfectly crafted bun, dark robes without a single wrinkle, and her shoulders squared with a straight spine. The woman was a Black through and through, down to those regal grey eyes peering down a slightly pink celestial nose. "Miss Delacroix, I was hoping you would accept me into your home for tea."

The ash haired woman frowned, staring up at her 'guest' with a raised brow. Discomfort overtook her as she tried unsuccessfully to access her magic, instinctively searching for its familiar tempo. Her fingers traced the grain of her useless wands as they stared at one another, waiting for her response. "Actually, I know the perfect place, Mrs. Tonks. Hope you don't mind a little walk in the cold. It's just around the corner, a nice and quiet muggle joint."A perfectly arched brow was her only response as the woman descended the three porch steps to join her on the walkway.

As she walked beside the younger witch, Andromeda refrained from questioning why they hadn't apparated. Or why the woman hadn't cast a warming charm on herself. Thankfully, marrying Ted had meant she'd been firmly introduced to the muggle world, and its many societal cues of when to walk, when to smile in passing, and how to simply ignore the inquisitive leers at her fashion. Soon enough, she found herself sat inside a small bistro, a fireplace warming the dining area that held only two other customers. She and Jo faced each other, and she could tell her appearance had made the other woman suspicious and uncomfortable.

Jo watched Andromeda closely, honestly confused by her presence. It made her nervous. Andromeda was a formidable witch, and seeing as she had absolutely no magic to her name, a crossing of wands would end pretty fucking terribly. Other than the visit to her home, she hadn't interacted with Andromeda Tonks since her beginning years at Hogwarts. What could she possibly want? Well, she supposed there was only one way to find out. With a deep sigh, she opened her mouth to just ask, but-

"Did you know that James Potter attended my wedding?" Andromeda let her face relax, a small smile playing at her lips as the Delacroix heiress's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Seeing as I was disowned, none of my family were there, except Sirius. Of course, where Sirius was there would always be James Potter. In celebration of his own disowning, Sirius came in place as my familial witness. Those two popped around quite a bit after that, even though Sirius and I had never been close as children." She paused as the waiter approached with their tea. Jo's eyebrows had dropped, pulling together into a disgruntled frown as the woman continued. "James and Lily even extended Ted and I the same courtesy of inviting us to their wedding. It was lovely of them, but Dora was still young, so we had to decline."

Tapping her fingers against the table, Jo found herself more uneasy now than when she had found the woman on her porch. "This is about Harry, isn't it?"

"Yes, it very much is. I wondered if you might be willing to tell me how you came about having him live with you." The two simultaneously sipped their tea, measuring one another up across the lips of their cups. Andromeda tried to keep her face casual, calm; hoping the younger woman could see she meant no harm. Jo took to tapping the table again, letting out a long exhale through her nose as she tried to figure out just what the older woman was after. Finally, they sat their teacups back on the saucers, and Jo came to her decision.

"Okay."

Unlike Katherine, Andromeda did interrupt with questions. "He slept where?", "They punished him how?", "He apparated? Twice?!", "She just gave him up without knowing who you even were?". Finally, she had no more questions, and Jo had reached the end of the story. Correction, Andromeda had no more questions pertaining to the story. "And what of your magic? Ted confided he had a member who had suffered an injury to their core. Shall I assume that is you?"

"You're welcome to assume whatever you want," Jo shrugged, finishing her second cup of tea. "Now, will you tell me what you really want out of this?"

"When you visited my home, I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him just who that boy was. I believe you and I both intelligent enough to understand how complicated things will become, how chaotic his life will be once he rejoins our society." Even though they were in a very muggle establishment, she still leaned in close and lowered her voice. "There are whispers among the Sacred 28."

The younger woman cast her a skeptical glance. "And how would you know this?"

"I'm the only remaining Black. They needed someone to take the seat."

"Narcissa is a Black." Jo pointed out, irritated by the mere mention of the pureblood counsel.

"She's a Malfoy now, and she's married to their seat holder. It would be improper for her to take the Black seat, so it fell on me." The older woman raised an eyebrow, waiting for another question. When none came, she pressed on to the real topic at hand. "My reason for this visit is because there are rumors that Albus Dumbledore will be formally approaching the Wizengamot. Everything is being kept very confidential, but gold loosens lips…"

Jo huffed a laugh, after nearly ten years still as exhausted by the pureblood politics as she had been in her youth. "And there's plenty of gold in the Sacred 28."

Andromeda nodded, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. "All that's been told is that he has approached them about the welfare of Harry Potter. I haven't heard more, but I needed to know the truth before…"

"Before you approached Dumbledore." Jo supplied, smirking just a bit at the predictability of it all when Andromeda nodded. "And what now? He knows everything. He knows Harry is in my care, he knows I've lost my magic, and he probably knows I'm an alcoholic. He's not exactly wrong in being concerned, wouldn't you say?"

"And you believe that?" Oh, she had forgotten how haughty a Black could look. "You believe he should be concerned that Harry is in your care?"

Jo didn't respond. She sat back in her chair, mind once again heavy with worries she wasn't sure how to fix. "I'll fight it, of course, if Harry wishes to stay with me. He can't go back to those muggles."

"What if Dumbledore no longer wishes for him to stay with the muggles?," she prodded, irked by the woman's apathy. Where was that legendary Delacroix temper? Her mother had complained on more than one occasion about the previous matriarch's stubbornness and quick temper. Her daughter looked a husk in the wind, ready to blow away in the faintest breeze.

Jo shrugged again. "If it's Harry's wish to leave, then I won't stop him. If he wishes to stay then I will fight to keep him. It doesn't concern me what Dumbledore wants, only Harry. How's the saying go? His wish is my command?"

Well, that left Andromeda with only one final question about the whole affair. "You care very deeply for him, don't you?"

"He's my family." Jo smiled softly. How had she ended up in so deep in such a short amount of time?

 _Finally_ , Andromeda thought. Some form of life, of _soul_ , had entered the young woman's eyes. She had observed them closely that day they had entered her home. The Potter boy had been polite, sweet in nature, and so very curious, latching onto every word as Nymphadora told him about her abilities and Hogwarts. He seemed genuinely cared for, in new clothing and well groomed, and he had reacted naturally, comfortable around Josephine. She had watched as they both would randomly look up from whatever was occupying their attention, peeking through the kitchen door to check on one another. A mother and her child, that would have been the picture they had painted if she hadn't known of their histories. After the counsel session, it hadn't seemed right to her that Dumbledore was set on separating them. And if there was one thing Andromeda had learned in her near thirty-five years, it was to always listen to her instincts.

The two didn't remain long after that. Andromeda did request she apparate the younger woman home. "You'll get sick in this cold. It's the least I can do." Jo tried not to read too much into the act, or the way the woman stared at her with barely concealed concern. Once they were safely on the dilapidated porch, Andromeda turned on the younger witch with one final inquisition. "You know the Delacroix seat still remains empty since the war ended. The Malfoys have become quite comfortable as the acting counsel head. Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to retake it."

"Perhaps." Jo shrugged, pushing the thought to the back of her mind. "I'll consider it once other, more important, issues are settled." The older woman nodded, accepting the answer before turning to depart. She promised to send an owl next time she wished for a tea partner. Jo openly laughed at that, and then she was alone, standing in the cold on her porch as her mind drowned itself with too many thoughts. Her fingers played with the cards in her pocket once more. Decisions needed to be made. She was just so damn _tired_ of being tired.

* * *

A week had passed since Jo's tea with Andromeda, and tonight she would be spending her time in the company of the other Tonks. The meeting had just wrapped up, the final point being a celebration of five years clean for two other members. Once everyone had cleared out, still clapping Anthony and Cara on the backs at the door, Ted finally sat in the chair next to her. He waved his wand lazily, sending the surrounding chairs and stools back to their stacks along the walls. "It's always a good night when we get to celebrate long term sobriety. One day that'll be you, Josephine."

"Yeah, I certainly hope you're right, Ted."

This had become yet another norm for her. She and Ted would sit at the end of a meeting, sometimes just for a cup of tea or coffee, other times for another hour filled with concerns she didn't want to disclose to the group, and Ted always had an ear ready. He hadn't changed much since school in that regard, always having an ear ready and solid advice to give. After he had let her into his home, she found herself very trusting of the older wizard. He had taken her under his wing, something about being her 'sponsor'. "It's what the muggles call it," he had said with a kind smile and chipper attitude, as per usual. She appreciated it, deeply.

"So, I've been thinking about the therapy." Pausing, she waited for him to nod, taking a sip of her tea to warm herself against the cold both inside and out. "I think you're right, I need something more than this. This is good for not drinking, but it's not enough." He hummed in response, nodding along some more as she spoke. "My…husband, he always refused to go, and I knew he wasn't right, knew he needed some sort of help. I never knew what until his sister had suggested it. Always called it 'quack medicine' and get himself in a fucking tiff about not being crazy, but I…think he really should have at least tried. I think I have a lot of the same problems, or at least the same manifestations… and I don't want to make the same mistakes. Honestly, Ted, I feel fucking crazy sometimes."

"Hm, there's a saying for that. Something along the lines of only the crazy ones don't think they're crazy." He smiled good naturedly, offering her a refill for her empty tea. "Personally, I think it's a wonderful idea. We all drink for a reason or reasons that need to be dealt with before we can truly call ourselves healed. Sometimes, the meetings are enough, people can work through them on their own by releasing all those stored tensions and worries, but usually, it's not enough. I went into therapy first, ironically it was also my brother who suggested it. A muggle therapist at that, which let me tell you made things very tricky."

They shared a chuckle at that. She could imagine that would have made things difficult, and would rather avoid having to censor her every word. "Well, which one then? I don't want to waste anyone's time." She pulled the cards from her pocket, fanning them out between their chairs. "I'd rather someone who at least knows of magic, I don't want to watch every word leaving my mouth. Considering I can't obliviate anyone at the moment, as well."

Ted took the cards, removing only one from the pile and handing it back to her. "This one. I can send her an owl if you would like."

She nodded once, staring at the little white card in her hand. _Bethany Wilks MPH_ was pressed into the paper in neat black print, an address below; it was simple and for some reason, that calmed her immensely. Ted continued talking, telling her this therapist was a muggleborn, had gotten her degree and certification in both the muggle and wizarding world. She had recently moved to the area, and was branded controversial with her muggle based practices. Sounded good enough for her. "Okay, send her an owl. She sounds as good a start as any." He wouldn't say it, but she could tell Ted was immensely relieved by her decision. That was a good sign, right?

* * *

The hills and cliffs surrounding them seemed to sing as strong winds blasted through, tossing ash and coal hair into their eyes. Harry only laughed, running along the dirt path with the dogs. He had a few sticks, randomly chucking one every now and then, which would send the small pack into a tizzy as they sped after it. Only Taffy remained by his side, sticking her nose up when he waved a stick in her direction. "I know what you want, huh pretty girl. You only like this one, don't you?" He pulled a green squeaky dog ball from his pocket, laughing again when the retriever mix started jumping around in excitement. "Alright then, show me what you got. Go get it!"

He threw the ball as hard as he could, and she was gone, just a golden blur through the dirt as the ball arced through the air. A raspy chuckle sounded behind him as Jo finally caught up. She looked tired, but much calmer now that they were out and about. "She's fast," she mumbled. Shielding her eyes with a hand, she stared out into the distance as Taffy finally got her ball. They continued walking, keeping a lazy eye on the dogs as they roamed through tall grass and little crevices in the ground. Poppy will definitely be giving them an earful at the muddy state of the canines when they return.

Growing bored with the sedate pace, Harry set to running after the dogs again. Jo just sat on a large rock, sighing softly as exhaustion weighed deeply from inside her very bones. She was bloody tired from nights filled with dark whispers and dreams, and had taken to waking herself every couple hours, trying desperately to escape them. Today was supposed to be a fun day, just like every weekend had been lately. A day just for her and Harry to escape through the world room and make some memories. Her mind just felt too heavy, and the clear skies and warming sun did nothing to alleviate it. She needed to talk to Harry, and she knew he wasn't going to handle it well.

For now, she'd leave him to run and play, but before they went back, she would have to. Andromeda had informed her two days ago that Dumbledore's request for a hearing had finally been submitted. She had time, of course. The wizarding legal system was not a well-oiled machine, and they would take their time, wiffling and waffling back and forth until some sort of general consensus was made. Then they would set a date and inform all involved parties. She could plan accordingly, compiling everything necessary and enter that court fully prepared. Prepared for what, she didn't know. Not until she talked to Harry. At the very least, he deserved to know.

The sun had begun to set, coloring the hills with warm oranges and reds. They had spent nearly the whole day scouring the hills, exploring caves and chasing down dogs who'd spotted a rabbit. Jo had taken to lazily tossing sticks for the couple dogs who _somehow_ still had enough energy to prance after them. The rest had flopped over, snuggled closely to one another in the tall grasses. Harry and Taffy were sat high above, his dirty and scraped legs hanging over the ledge kicking back and forth.

"D'ya think Jo's okay?" Taffy just leaned into his side, tongue lolling and dripping saliva onto his shoulder. "She's seemed off today, right? Just kind of…sad?" The dog didn't offer an answer, only snuffled his hair and playfully nibbled at his ear. "Yeah, I know she's always like that, but it's different today. She just keeps giving me this look, like I'm making her sad. I don't know what I've done?"

She was doing it right now, actually. One hand on her hip, the other scratching that behemoth of a great dane behind the ears as she squinted up at him with a deep frown. He offered her an attempt at a big smile, but his cheeks felt tight. Her eyebrows pulled together in concern. Head tilted to one side, she just stared up at him. He didn't have much choice except to stare back, equally as confused with it all. Then Jo was marching up the hill, huffing a bit as she reached him. "Hey, kid."

"Hey."

He didn't look up at her, but he saw her own legs slide over the edge next to his. Peeking through his hair, he found Jo staring out over the hills, that sad look on her face again. "Jo," he hesitated a bit, but she had turned to face him, face open and attentive. "Are you mad at me?" Her face scrunched into a confused smile as she shook her head. "No? Why, are you mad at me?" She just gave him that small smile of hers when he shook his head quickly, reaching up to ruffle his hair gently. When she let him lean against her side, fingers still running through his unruly strands, he found the usual warmth of comfort wash over him. He felt silly now, thinking she was mad at him.

"Can I ask you something?" She continued playing with his hair, just watching as the sun set. He nodded against her shoulder, and she could feel as a yawn shook through him. "Why'd you want to stay with me? Why'd you keep coming back?"

"Because you were my friend. You were nicer to me than anyone else had ever been, and…I felt more at home with you than I did with my family." _I wanted you to be my family,_ he thought. His secret wish when he would go to sleep in that cupboard. Somehow he had actually gotten it to come true.

"And now? After everything I-…after everything that's happened, my being sick and magic being gone. Do you still want to stay?" Her chest hurt at the realization that Harry could say no. He could want to leave. Up until this very moment, she'd never truly considered that option. The icy cold deep inside began to crawl its way out. Why did it suddenly feel so hard to breathe?

"Well, yeah. You're my family, Jo." He pulled away then, giving her a curious and slightly scared look. It took everything within her to not pull him close again, to latch back onto his warmth. "Right? We're family, right Jo?" True panic jolted through him when he saw the tears in Jo's eyes, but she just smiled softly and nodded.

"We'll always be family. Don't ever think different. You're my kid."

"And you're my Jo." He still felt anxious, nervous by the look in her eyes and the way she had started tapping her fingers against the ground. She had that look, the one that said she was going to say something she didn't want to. That was perhaps too grown up for him, but as she had almost always done, she was going to try anyways.

"There are…" She stopped, sighing through her nose. "There are people who don't think you should live with me. I just wanted you to know that there are other… _options_. Other families who would gladly take you in and take good-" _better_ , she thought bitterly, "-care of you."

"But you take good care of me." His face was quickly fading from nervous and confused to defiant. "Why do they think I shouldn't live with you? Because you were sick? You're getting better, you're already loads better. Is it because of your magic? Because I know you'll get it back!"

"What if it doesn't, though? What if I 'get sick' again? What if I break all of those promises I made you? _Again_?" She was trying to be patient, to make him see the risks, but her voice came out with too much force, sharp. He didn't back down, though, those bright green eyes flashing with anger.

"I know you won't." The eight year old's voice came out confidently. Godric Gryffindor would've been proud, he was sure of it.

"No, you don't. _I_ don't even know that."She squinted down at him, scowling slightly. He just wasn't getting it.

"I do!" He suddenly sprung up, angry and desperate tears in his eyes as he dug into his jacket pocket. Out of it came a little token hung on a key chain. "Remember? **You** gave me this to remind you that you will get better, and I _always_ will. I know you won't do any of those things again, and I know your magic will come back." And really, though she would never admit it, Jo was shocked into silence. The irritation that had been bubbling under her skin instantly cooled, melting away into something much calmer, soothing the burn from her anger. Acceptance? Gratitude? Love? Perhaps it was all three, creating a feeling she couldn't properly name.

Harry watched as she reached one finger out, gently running the tip of it over the inscription on the token. She had looked confused by it, twisting it back and forth as if it was some unknown treasure. Relief washed through him when she finally just smiled softly, nodding up to him. "I'm sorry. I guess all I wanted to know was if you still wanted to stay. After the mess I made, and the pain I caused you. I should've had more faith in your pure stubbornness," smirking, she gently tucked the token back into his hand.

"I already told you. If they try to take me, I'll just run away and come back to you. You're my family." She bumped her shoulder against him, chuckling at his cheekiness.

"And family is forever." Another raspy chuckle worked its way out of her throat, completely unbidden. Merlin, wasn't that even more sappy and pathetic sounding when she remembered. Those were the exact words painted on the wall in her father's old study.

"C'mon, let's get back home." They didn't talk about Harry leaving anymore, walking hand in hand back down the hill. Instead, they talked about school, little Abigail Moss, and whether or not sledding should be their next weekend activity. Only once they were home, fed and bathed, and properly chastised about the state of the mud-caked dogs, did Harry broach the subject again.

"Are they going to take me away from you?" The defiant little lion had melted away, leaving a scared eight year old boy in its place. He was snuggled into his bed, the giant red comforter pulled up to his chin.

She gave him an easy smile. "Nah."

"Are you sure?"

"Damn sure. Don't worry none about it. If you want to stay, then you're staying. I'll make sure of it." Then she did something Harry wasn't sure she had ever done before. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Like I said, you're my kid. Now, get some sleep, and let me do what I do best."

"What's that?"

"Keeping nosy prats out of my business."

* * *

"Wow, you look like shite." Jo rolled her head around to stare balefully at her so-called 'best friend'. Why had she invited her over again? Katherine offered her own smirk in response, letting herself further into the lounge. It almost felt like they were teenagers again, she thought with a wistful smile, lighting a cigarette. They had snuck in here plenty of times, sneaking cigarettes and fancy champagne in the old lounge after all the men had filled it with cigar smoke. "I didn't know you still smoke," Jo grumbled, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Those had, fortunately, been an easy vice to quit years ago.

"I had, back before Maddie was born. Then William started back up a year ago, and well," she waved the little stick. Jo just nodded, inspecting her friend as she sunk into the neighboring leather chaise. She looked tired, although Jo supposed working full time with three children at home would do that to you, but she couldn't help feeling that this type of tired was for an entirely different reason. "How've you been?," Katherine asked, her face turning into one of motherly concern.

"How have _you_ been?," Jo tossed back, raising an eyebrow with her own look of worry. The blonde blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting their meeting to be turned on her own welfare. "You don't get to ask that, you pillock. You're the one that almost died." She gave the ash haired witch a stern look, getting a shrug in response.

"I feel like that's happened before, and it's never stopped me from being able to care about your life. _So_ …how are you? You look as tired as I feel." She raised her eyebrows, pulling herself up to actually face her friend. Katherine frowned, ashing her cigarette into the dusty glass ashtray with the Delacroix family crest pressed into the center. It had been Jo's father's favorite, she distantly remembered.

"Honestly?" Jo just gave her that dry look she hadn't seen in years. "Ah, it's just been a tough few months. William's mother, you remember Clara? She's been rather ill for the past year, but in September she had a nasty fall. We had to move her out of her house and into an Elderly home up in Oxford. Place is bloody expensive, and we've been trying to make that work. William's been having a tough time, we all have of course, but it's becoming very touch and go. Last night she had a stroke, and they decided it was time to move her to hospice."

"I'm sorry, that's…well, it's tough. She's his only remaining family, isn't she?" Katherine nodded, dabbing at her eyes before the tears could fall. Old Clara Schott had become very much like her own mother throughout her marriage, and seeing her deteriorating so rapidly absolutely broke her heart. "I am so sorry, Katie." She reached out, clutching the blonde's hand in her own with a gentle squeeze. Katherine only offered a watery smile.

"Ah, but that's life. No one lives forever." Sniffling, the blonde dabbed at her eyes one final time. "We're preparing ourselves as best we can. With Christmas having just passed, we weren't quite ready for this. She had been doing so well, too." Jo could only nod, none of the words she could think of seemed good enough to say. She didn't have the experience of watching a parent fade from this world, nor the experience of preparing herself for that inevitability. Her parents and brother had passed without warning, she'd just had to accept it as quickly as she was told. Katherine squeezed her hand, having never let go of it, and offered another watery smile. She understood the lack of response. "Do you need me to do anything? I know I haven't been-"

"Shut up, you bint. Don't worry about me, or the past few years. I don't think you know how relieved I am just to have my best friend sober and alive, listening to my troubles again. You don't need to do anything more than that." She offered a kind smile, still sniffling slightly. Merlin, this really was all she needed. A friend to tell her woes to, that actually cared.

Those were sweet words. Jo didn't buy it. "Don't do that, Katie. C'mon, let me help you. Y'know, considering you literally saved my life barely three months ago."

"I'm not desperate enough to be begging my best friend for something she can't fix," the blonde smiled sadly, shaking her head with a slight laugh at Jo's put out face. "Honestly, just having you here, listening to me, is more than enough."

Jo frowned, still dissatisfied. She supposed it was unfair to expect Katherine to really ask for her help, she hadn't exactly been the most dependable friend. Sighing, she just waved her hand, as if physically clearing the air of the conversation. "Fine, then tell me what else is going on in your life. You've probably got years of pent up rants and stories for me."

The blonde took a moment to think about that. Yes, she most certainly had years of pent up rants, and Merlin knows how many stories, but she didn't want to talk about those. She had other words buried inside. Thoughts that had kept her awake countless nights, writing letters she would never send, and had her devouring the obituaries every morning for the name Delacroix. For five long years she had missed her best friend, worried and angry; _bitter_ that she apparently meant so little compared to a bottle of whiskey. She understood, she always understood, but that didn't keep her from feeling angry and resentful.

She understood when Jo could barely stand the sight of her bulging pregnant belly, Madison kicking and rolling around anytime they were near the grieving witch. But she was fucking pissed her daughter's _godmother_ never saw her daughter smile, walk, talk; that she never got to send that excited letter about her daughter magicking herself from the crib to their bed. She understood when her friend had refused being her maid of honor when she had showed up with an engagement ring wrapped around her finger. But she had been hurt and beyond livid when her friend didn't even show up for the small ceremony. She _understood_ that Jo had started to hate her when she appeared with another child growing inside her womb. But she started to hated Jo just the same for being incapable of any happiness. She had returned home in tears, devastated and angry by the broken _thing_ that used to be her sister in all but blood. William had suggested perhaps it was time for distance. She had taken his advice, and regretted it every day, even after finding Jo asleep in her own vomit. She had been waiting, hoping and even praying for this day to come.

And now that it was here, she wasn't sure whether to spill all of her angry thoughts or all of her children's sweet and ridiculous feats.

"I really want you to meet my children."

"I-what? You're joking, right?" Jo snorted, thinking her friend couldn't possibly be serious. "I'm a fucking mess, remember? Nearly died, lost my magic, and in AA? Don't think I'm quite the model influence you should have coming 'round for tea."

"I'm serious, Jo. I want you to meet my children, especially your goddaughter. You remember, the one I named after you? Madison Josephine. The little girl who still asks if she'll ever meet you." Jo looked frustrated and confused, the amusement dropping from her face along with the color in her cheeks. Katherine could see her mind working quickly, already forming another dismissal of the idea. "Listen, I _understand_. I've always bloody understood, okay? But it's been eight years. You're finally healing, Jo. You have Harry running around here, and he doesn't send you into a-"

"That is not even remotely the same-" Jo practically snarled.

"It's not that different." Katherine rebutted, her voice even and soothing. She has three kids to constantly keep from daily bouts of war. A testy Josephine Delacroix was laughable in comparison.

Jo thought it very much fucking different, but clamped her mouth shut, glaring at her hands as they shook in her lap. "Please, Jo. Please, just think about it. Maddie's birthday is coming up, the tenth of February. I bet her and Harry would get along splendidly, _and_ he could start making friends with another magical child." Katherine knew she was playing a little dirty, using Harry as leverage, but damnit, she wants Jo to meet her bloody kids, already. It's been long enough.

A tense silence fell over the two women as Jo resolutely refused to agree, but she just couldn't bring herself to say no, either. Not with her best friend pleading like that. She sighed, her resolve weakening when she looked up and caught Katherine's stupid big blue puppy dog eyes.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm being difficult-" Katherine moved from the chaise, planting herself right against her best friend. "But I love you, and I want you to meet the people I made." She really couldn't help it, the ash haired woman started chuckling, shaking her head in amusement.

"Can I say I'll think about it?"

"Nope."

"...Can I even say no?"

Smirking, Katherine shook her head. "Nuh-uh."

Jo released a deep sigh, leaning her head against the back of the chair. "Alright, fine. We'll come to the birthday." She felt Katherine's head lean on her shoulder, their hands intertwining between their legs. "Thank you," the blonde murmured, content with sitting right here next to her very sober and alive friend.

" _Thank you_ ," the ash haired witch whispered, closing her eyes as she soaked in the physical comfort of having her friend near. "For not giving up on me. For giving me another chance."

"I did, though. I gave up on you, and left you to just… _die_. That's what I thought, you know. Merlin, every morning I thought I'd see your name in the Obits. I'm sorry for leaving you." Neither woman looked at one another, trying to hide their misty eyes. This talk had been a long time coming.

"You did the right thing. I…was a fucking mess. I was angry and sad…and I wanted to die. I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, every night I fucking hoped I would. And I love you, so much, but you weren't going to save me from that. I hated you then, hated that you were getting everything I lost, creating a family when mine was-" Her throat clogged shut, still unable to put her pain into real words.

"I know." Katherine's voice was barely a whisper. "It wasn't fair."

Jo chuckled at that, but there was no humor to it. "Life isn't fair."

They fell silent again, hearts heavy. The past would always be there, a darkness that could never be lifted. Even with all that darkness, all the sadness still inside, they both felt just a tad lighter, too. They were healing, rebuilding the bridge they had believed burned and gone. It was bittersweet.

With a cough, Katherine finally extracted herself from the other woman, pulling another cigarette from her little silver case with trembling fingers. "So, are you ever going to tell me how you've been? What have you been doing? Because you really do look like shite," they both laughed, watery and a little forced, but it felt better than crying.

"Sober two months as of this week. No magic, but apparently the docs are making headway. I'm hoping to hear back from them this week." She shrugged, rubbing her forehead to try and alleviate the building headache. The cigarette smoke definitely didn't help. "Can't sleep for shit, and I'll be starting therapy next week."

"Therapy? Like counseling? Like talk about your feelings? Like actual fucking therapy?!" Katherine's voice hit an interesting shrill tone on the final word. Who was this woman, and where did she hide the real Jo?

"Yes, Katie, that would be therapy." She sighed with a deadpan expression, even throwing in an eye roll for good measure.

"Huh," the blonde sat back, honest-to-Helga shocked. "Never thought you'd be the type."

"I don't think you have to be a type to need therapy," smirking dryly, she gave Katherine another shrug. "Don't really have the luxury of declining anything that could help. Gotta be a responsible adult, now, and somehow fix this mess I've become. Got a kid to keep alive, y'know."

"I think Cole would be proud of you." The blonde instantly wished she had kept her stupid big mouth shut. She felt like a right arse when Jo's face crumpled, turning stormy and withdrawn. "I'm sorry, I know you don't want to hear his name, but I think he really would be." She was startled when her friend responded with a dark bark of laughter, the sad expression morphing into one of thoughtfulness.

"No, he would've called me weak. Plus stupid, for even thinking about going to a 'quack fuck' of a doctor." Jo's voice was quiet, resigned with the truth she knew now. She couldn't stand looking at Katherine's sad face, instead dropping her eyes to stare at her hands again. They were still shaking. "I've had some time to really think about our time together. Remember it properly, with a sober mind. I loved him, I really did, but we had a lot of issues, some that probably would have ended our marriage if he had survived. He didn't like weak people, hated it when someone couldn't pull themselves together and take care of their shit." Her lips pulled up just a tad, still fond of the old grump's callous tendencies. Even his fucking hypocrisy. "I would be a disappointment to him, what I've become."

"Oh, you pillock," Katherine sighed, giving her friend an exasperated face. Even after all this time, she still didn't see what everyone else had. "That man loved you to the moon and back. Yes, he had some…not nice traits, but he would have never said something so cruel to _you_." Now, other people, most definitely, but Katherine remembered the way that man would stare after her best friend, like no one else even existed. The way he would handle her, so gentle and tender, as if he was holding a tiny bird. He had been a bloody headache to deal with, just a prickly shit that knew each and every button to push for every person he encountered. But Merlin help the person that would try to push Jo's within his vicinity. That man had been a force to be reckoned with, and had bloody terrified quite a few people in their past. Which was ridiculously impressive, seeing as he had been a _muggle._

 _Ah, how did we end up talking about you?,_ Jo wondered. After countless sleepless nights and the last few AA meetings, she'd had quite enough of talking and thinking about her dead husband and family. "Alright, enough of this. What should Harry and I get Maddie for her birthday?"

Neither woman noticed a pair of bright green eyes peeking through the cracked door. And you best believe that the son of James Potter, sneak and mischief maker extraordinaire, had heard every single word.


	16. Chapter 16 Natural

**Hello everyone! So sorry I didn't update last week, but things were a little too hectic and busy with the holidays. I hope all of you who celebrated a holiday this past week had a wonderful time.**

 **And Thank you guys, so much for all the continued support. Favorites, follows, reviews; they all sincerely brighten my day.**

 **Hope you all enjoy- This one's a bit of...uh...I'm not even sure how to describe it in one word. It's a bit of a doozy. Let's just go with that.**

 **Enjoy**

 **~GhostDoor**

 **Chapter 16**

 **January-February 1989**

* * *

 **"No form of nature is inferior to art; for the arts merely imitate natural forms."-Marcus Aurelius**

* * *

 **X**

"Jo was married."

Abigail immediately began coughing, crumbs from the bite of sandwich trying to invade her lungs. Harry just grimaced awkwardly as the girl caught her breath, smacking her chest and sputtering. Looking around the small cafeteria, he flushed a bit in embarrassment at all the stares they were attracting.

"WHAT?!"

"Shh, you don't have to shout. Just, listen, alright?" Harry proceeded to tell her about everything he had heard the night before. He left out many pieces, like Jo admitting to wanting to die, and her and Katherine's emotional conversation about their damaged friendship. By the end, Abigail, her lunch forgotten, was leaned across the table, soaking in all the details with a deeply concerned and inquisitive expression. "And that's not all. Jo told me over the weekend that there are people who don't want me staying with her. They want me to live with someone else."

"Wait, seriously?" Harry nodded, his face pinched in worry. "Why would they want to do that? They can't just take you if you don't wanna go, can they?" Harry just shrugged, relieved to finally get everything off of his chest. "What are you going to do?" The bell chimed, signaling the children to begin cleaning up their lunches and head back to classes.

"I dunno. Jo told me she wouldn't let them," he paused, catching the eye of an older boy he didn't know that was watching the two of them with an odd expression. "I told her I would just run away, come back home if they tried." Abigail giggled, saying she didn't think it would be that easy. Harry barely heard her, still watching as the older boy with dirty blonde hair loitered near the opposite exit. The boy smirked, giving Harry a rude hand gesture before slipping through the door with the rest of the older students.

 **XxX**

"What happened to her husband, by the way? You never said." Abigail was trailing along beside him, jumping over cracks in the concrete. Even though it was biting cold outside, Harry insisted on walking the long way round. That same older boy from the cafeteria had been hanging around the gate they usually left through. Something in his gut, perhaps from his previous experiences with Dudley and his gang, was warning him away from encountering the boy. Especially with Abigail along. If it was just him, he wondered if he would have even given the boy a second glance. He knew, at the very least, on his own he could sprint home quickly.

"She said 'If he had survived'." Frowning, he tried not to think about how…sad and broken Jo had sounded last night. A part of him was starting to realize that Jo had lost much more than he had ever realized.

"Oh," Abigail sighed, frowning deeply with sympathy for Jo. "That's terribly sad." She had stopped suddenly, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the ground in obvious nervousness. "Harry, can I ask you something?" Harry shrugged and nodded. There wasn't much he wouldn't tell Abigail. Barring the existence of magic, of course. "How did you come to be living with Miss Jo? Before this year, no one ever walked or drove you to school, so I was just thinking that…"

"I met Jo this year?" Harry supplied in a mumble, feeling awkward now. Perhaps there are some things he didn't want to tell Abigail. "That's because I did. I was living with…other people before. When I asked her if I could live with her instead, well…she didn't really think it was a good idea, but she let me, in the end."

"Oh." Abigail pondered about that, letting Harry start their walking again. Everyone knew that Harry Potter didn't have parents. What no one knew was who Harry Potter lived with, until this year that is. "Why didn't you want to live with those other people anymore?"

Harry didn't answer right away. In fact, he let the question hang between them, and the silence left Abigail feeling awkward. Once they had reached the corner of her block, he stopped, and Abigail paused with him. "The people I stayed with before…well, they didn't like me much." Shrugging, he ruffled his hair, obviously uncomfortable talking about the subject. "Jo was- _is_ nice to me. She treats me like I'm family, that we're a family. In all of my life, I'd never had someone treat me that way. I really felt like she cared about me. Like she actually liked me…so I chose her instead." Abigail didn't know what to say, torn between peppering the boy with more questions or apologizing for bringing up an obviously sore subject. Harry, not feeling up to dealing with the Moss sisters, gave Abigail a small smile. "That's all there is to it, really. I'm gonna head home now, okay?"

"Okay." Abigail gave him a feeble wave, watching as the boy turned and started off towards his own street. She thought that she needed to say something more, and when he had just started to cross the road, she knew she couldn't let him leave just yet. "Harry!" He turned around instantly, face obviously apprehensive about what Abigail wanted to ask now. "…I'm glad you found your own family. I know we weren't friends before, but I remember a-and so did Lenny." Abigail started towards him, her arms waving slightly to emphasize her little speech. "You used to be this quiet boy. You wouldn't talk to no-one or smile or anything. You didn't even eat lunch. No one knew anything about you except what Doody Dursley would shout at you in the school yard." Harry smiled slightly at the nickname Abigail had taken to calling Dursley, but it quickly fell as Abigail continued. "Then, this year, you…changed? You just seemed different. Happier, maybe? But you looked like someone who finally _wanted_ friends, and something made me think you'd be a great friend for us. So I'm glad you got your family, because without Jo, I don't know if you would've ever came to lunch, and met me and Lenny."

Abigail ended her dialogue with a sudden hug, crushing the boy against her. Harry just laughed a little, surprised as his cheeks burned with embarrassment. Abigail had always been a great deal more of a toucher than either him or Lenny, and he had been subjected to quite a few hugs from the smaller girl. However, she was just being overly sweet right now, and it was honestly nice. Sometimes, he wasn't ready for how appreciative of their friendship Abigail made him feel. "I'm glad we're friends, too."

* * *

"Josephine Delacroix?" The receptionist called, drying her freshly painted nails with a mumbled spell. Her chestnut colored hair was teased and curled out, adding nearly another head to her height. All Jo could see from her seat were two squinted beady eyes peaking over the desk, but that _hair_. Merlin, is that what women do now? Shaking her head, she pushed herself from the little chair and approached. "The doctor will see you." The little name plaque read **Marjorine Kernes**. _Marjorine_ gave her a once over, bright red lips twisting slightly at the sight of her rumpled t-shirt and obviously unpressed slacks that were over a decade old. "Just through that door, ma'am."

Nodding, Jo didn't offer a smile or another glance as she entered the office, her thoughts much too anxious to concern herself with the pretty girl behind the desk. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting a therapist's office to look like. Somewhere in her mind, she had created a clinical image of white and metal. What she had walked into presented an instantly calm atmosphere. The walls were painted a rather boring tan. Neutral. She liked that. There were a couple art pieces on the walls. One of a boy fishing on a lake, it didn't move. The other depicted a hill covered in heather that swayed easily in a non-existent breeze. A desk, oak, sat in the far corner with only a few papers, a small bird statue, quills, and muggle pens on top. Finally, the three large comfortable looking chairs, one of which was already occupied.

Bethany Wilks refrained from speaking, merely observing the taller witch as she surveyed the room slowly. Her face barely changed, seemingly passive about the whole experience. However, Bethany could see, just barely there, a slight relaxation in her stance. The room had passed whatever internal test her newest patient had given it. Finally, when the woman's sapphire blue eyes landed on her, Bethany sat up slightly and offered a kind smile. "Miss Delacroix? I'm Bethany Wilks. Thank you so much for joining me today. You can sit in whichever seat you would like."

Jo nodded, taking the chair closest to the door. Nearly every patient did for their first few visits. "Thanks for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. I'm sure you've got a full schedule." She was already tapping her fingers against the arm of the chair. She had to consciously keep from jiggling her foot back and forth. These damn nerves were starting to wreak havoc inside her stomach. "So, how does this all work?"

"Well," Bethany readjusted herself, settling back into a comfortable position. She laid her hands out in front of her, palms up. "Mostly it's just talking. Usually on the first day, we start with the normal things any person would upon meeting someone. Our names, likes and dislikes, favorite foods and restaurants; just normal conversation that will flow how we like. You have full control over what we do or do not discuss." Jo was still tapping her fingers, letting out a long sigh through her nose as she nodded. "Alright, well I've already introduced myself. Why don't we start with something easy. What's your favorite color?"

Jo tried to hide an amused smirk behind the hand not tapping a hole into the upholstery. "Grey. Yours?"

"Oh, I'd have to say purple. Can I ask why grey?" Jo just shrugged in response, she didn't have a reason she could put into words. "Ah, I just enjoy how calm yet happy purple makes me feel. Not like royal purple, though, but a soft purple."

"Like a lilac or iris?" Jo supplied, finding her eyes rather drawn to the gently swaying heather.

"Exactly, yes. What's your least favorite color?"

Jo frowned. "…Red." She saw Bethany open her mouth, anticipated her asking why. "Like blood. What's yours?"

"Brown, like dead leaves. Can I ask why that comparison?"

The very firm 'no' was just on the tip of her tongue. Jo turned slightly to tell the doctor just that, but suddenly stopped. Bethany patiently waited as the woman clearly debated herself, her eyes squinting slightly as her tapping increased in tempo. Suddenly, she exhaled violently through her nose, and the therapist honestly thought the woman was about to jump up and flee the room. It wouldn't be the first time a new patient left within only a few minutes.

But Josephine Delacroix did not leap up and leave. Instead, she planted both feet squarely on the floor and leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped together as if in prayer as she stared at some point over Bethany's shoulder. "Because too many people bled during the war. Some of those people…I made bleed."

Bethany nodded, her face never changing as she offered the woman another gentle smile. "Thank you for answering. I know that it's difficult, but remember, you are more than welcome to not answer if the question makes you uncomfortable."

Leaning back, Jo just gave the woman a confused look. "Isn't that the only way to fix me? If I'm honest, and tell you this shit?"

"Honesty, of course, is key, but therapy is much more than just telling me whatever you think you should. It's about building a relationship, one where you actually _feel_ that you can trust me with your thoughts and emotions. Trust me to put the pieces you give me together, and help you work through the image we create out of them." She offered another kind smile, understanding that the woman was trying to better herself, but it took time and many many conversations. "Today is our first meeting, the day to get a proper gauge of one another, and decide whether this is a relationship you desire to cultivate. Relax and let the conversation flow naturally. Whatever you _want_ to share, please do, but you are not required to."

"Huh," Jo sat back, still stiff and feeling more awkward now. Normal chit-chat had never been her _forte_ , but she'd much rather that than digging straight into all of her traumatic bullshit. She wasn't so sure, sitting in this little room now, that she would even be able to talk about it. Bethany Wilks seemed honest enough, obviously not wanting to waste either of their time. Glancing at the watch on her wrist, she noted they still had about fifty minutes left to this appointment. She could make it until then before coming to a decision. With another awkward shift in her seat, she tried, and failed, to make herself more comfortable. Clearing her throat, she nodded at the woman to continue.

"Alright. How about another favorite? What's your favorite season?"

"Spring. Yours?"

"Summer, definitely."

And they continued along this vein for fifty minutes. There were many lulls in their conversation. During those silent moments, Bethany would just sit back and observe as her newest patient's eyes would glide over the painting of heather, clearly lost to thoughts she didn't understand. Yet. Or at least, that was the impression she was presented when Josephine mumbled a 'same time next week, Doc?'. Once the slightly older witch had left the room, Bethany pulled a small notebook into her lap. Under her newest patient's name, she began noting the small details she had observed. Something in her gut told her this case would possibly be unpleasant, perhaps more difficult than her usual, but there was this little _spark_ about Josephine that led her to believe it would all be worth it in the end. The quiet and withdrawn woman still had life trapped within the shell she had cultivated over the years. She just needed to guide it back out, to show it that there are still things to see, experience, feel…

Or maybe she was still being too much the optimist?

Jo left the appointment with the therapist feeling…well, not any different, really. Devastatingly underwhelmed, if she were being honest. She felt like she had just spent an hour discussing trivial bullshit, learning mundane facts about one Bethany Wilks. Like the fact that Bethany Wilks loves the smell of mint leaves. She absolutely hates the smell of any and all potpourri? She loves spaghetti and hates mussels. She prefers a hot and humid day, and detests winter. Loves horses, hates rats. Loves jazz music, hates classical opera. Loves this, hates that. Merlin, this felt more and more like a terribly bland blind date than an appointment with a licensed doctor.

Marjorine had slid an appointment card across the desk to her, a date and time already written in neat and feminine cursive. She still hadn't decided whether or not she would continue these appointments. Sighing, she actually kicked a rock down the sidewalk in a small bout of frustration.

There had been this little blip of hope. Hope that coming here would provide her with some clear answer, a sign that this was in fact the correct step to take. Of course, she knew walking in this wasn't a one time deal, some quick fix. _This_ is going to take time, dedication. Like Bethany Wilks said, it was a relationship of trust that needed to be built. Even if today felt absolutely worthless, in the long run it would hopefully be the building block to some tangible result. She just needed to keep steady and moving forward. Ted thinks this is the best option, and she didn't think he would steer her wrong. At least, not on purpose.

Grimacing slightly, she dug her nose into the warmth of her scarf and started towards St. Mungos. Healer Wolff was demanding her presence and blood. Today would be a long day full of appointments.

"Cocking Nora, how do the muggles not freeze to death?!" A long day full of reminders of why magical travel was so much better than walking in the fucking cold.

* * *

It was a quarter past nine, nearing bedtime, when Harry found himself in the doorway to one of the many libraries of the third floor. Jo was hunched over a large desk, a few books of differing size spread open in front of her. However, her tired and squinting eyes were focused elsewhere. He watched as she sighed deeply, moving to place her chin on her hand while the other massaged her temple. Her eyes drifted shut, and Harry was afraid she might fall asleep. She seemed so tired lately, and he was starting to worry.

"Hey, kid." Her croaking voice made him jump, he hadn't thought she had noticed him. Smiling sheepishly, Harry entered the room. She gave him an easy smile, her eyes crinkling just enough. "Bout that time?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded, holding up the book in his hand. "I was hoping we could start this one, tonight." Jo hummed, holding her hand out for the red book. _Fleamont Potter,_ engraved with gold ink, flashed brightly in the candle light. "I remember Fleamont Potter. He's your grandfather." Harry nodded with more enthusiasm, and Jo knew it was definitely time for their bedtime reading.

"Alright, let's go then. Make sure you brush your teeth. Poppy'll give us both hell if you miss again." She tried to smirk playfully, but grimaced when her voice came out a bit raspy, the deep exhaustion in her bones starting to bleed into the easy action of talking. Harry didn't seem to notice, already rushing off to complete his bedtime routine. She took a moment to lean back in the chair, face towards the ceiling and eyes shut. Breathe in; one…two…three…four…five. Breathe out; one…two…three…four…five. Her mind told her it was time to stand up, to head down to the second floor, but her body just refused.

There were no words to describe the blank fog, the soul-draining exhaustion that had wrapped around her weeks ago and refused to let off. She needed to get up, though. She needed to stand up, walk down the stairs, and tell Harry all about Fleamont Potter spilling champagne on her mother at the Christmas party of 1970. With a grunt, and much more energy than she thought should be necessary, she finally stood and left the room. Leaving behind the books she should be reading, but couldn't stand to look at. She was just _so_ tired.

Harry rubbed his eyes, trying in vain to un-blur the words on the page. There were only two more pages! He just needed to stay awake. His eyes were squinted, the book much too close to his face, but without Jo reading, he had to do it himself.

"Mm, not the niffler…no the…it's a woodchuck." He found himself giggling, giving up on the last two pages for just a minute to watch Jo. Her face morphed between confusion and irritation as she slept, unintelligible words falling from her lips. She had fallen asleep while reading, her voice turning raspier and slower as she tried to power through the last half of the journal. Harry hadn't been surprised when her head had slumped against his, and the book had fallen onto his lap. Now, he was just stuck between giggling quietly or trying to read the final pages. "Dam'it…it's blue woodchuck…blue."

"Why is it blue?," he asked, stifling his giggles as best he could. Jo mumbled, rolling away slightly with a confused face. Her squirming disrupted his canine companion. Taffy grumbled slightly, picking up and resettling back into sleep quickly at the foot of the bed. He wouldn't be surprised if Poppy was also tucked away and asleep for the night. It seems he's the only one awake. Perhaps it was time to go to sleep.

But only after he reads the last two pages.

* * *

Bethany Wilks watched as Jo tapped the armrest and stared at the painting. She hadn't spoken a word after their greetings, just sat down and started tapping. They'd spent that last ten minutes in near silence. She had been hoping the older witch would be the initiator today, to get a better grasp of the way she spoke and thought. How she interacted with people. Silence also spoke volumes, but she had been curious, just to see.

"How have you been, Josephine?" The older witch hummed slightly, her blue eyes nearly hidden behind squinted eyelids with dark purple bags hung below. "You seem tired." She observed, frowning slightly at the obvious body language. She wondered if her patient might fall asleep? However, she believed that would require a touch more trust than what they had formed in only one meeting.

Jo only hummed again, nodding ever so slightly as her eyes began to blink rapidly." 'm always tired," she mumbled. "Slept like the dead last night, still woke up ready to take a twelve hour nap." Beth waited for the ash haired woman to say more, but another two minutes passed in silence. "Do you usually sleep well?" She shook her head. "What does a normal night of sleep look like for you, Josephine?"

"Usually? Sleep for a couple hours, wake up from a nightmare, drink some tea or stare at a book until I fall asleep again. Then a couple hours later, wake from another nightmare and repeat it all again until it's time to get up." She rubbed at her eyes, a bit too aggressively when stars exploded behind her eyelids. "Only time I sleep well is if Harry's next to me."

"Did drinking help you sleep?" Beth tried to keep her voice gentle, to ease Josephine into hopefully speaking more. The older witch scowled, rubbing her temples slightly as she shook her head. "No. It helped me black out. I didn't _sleep_. Just drank myself into a hole where my mind couldn't function enough to dream."

Beth let the answer hang for a moment, watching as Josephine glared at the floor. Intuition was telling her they wouldn't be making much headway into the why's and how's of Josephine's alcoholism today. _Might as well try_ , she thought and leaned forward ever so slightly. "Would you like to talk about the nightmares?"

"...No."

Beth took note of the slight pause, but she knew today was not the day to push the envelope. "What would be something you would like to talk about?"

Jo blinked slowly, her tapping finally tapering off as she thought. "I'm not… what would be a normal thing to talk about?" She felt herself getting lost again, that blank haze shrouding her mind. She felt slow, as if everything in her body was stuck in sand. Her mind just barely churning through the tar to produce usable words.

"We could talk about what you did this week? Anything interesting?" Beth offered, watching as the woman tried to blink away the glaze in her stare. "What about Harry? Did you two do anything over the week?"

The mention of Harry sent a spark through her brain. She tried to hold onto it, to pull her mind back into focus. "He had an exam." Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, concentrating on fleeting thoughts that just wouldn't stick. She was trying to push through the fog, to find the details she was lacking. "A maths exam. He's had a hard time with the new equations, but he passed with only two wrong answers. We stayed up for two nights studying."

Beth offered a kind smile, nodding along as the woman seemed to fill with a breath of fresh air. "That's wonderful news. I bet he was absolutely proud of that."

"Not nearly as proud as Poppy." Her lips pulled into a smirk just thinking about the elf jumping up and down, showering Harry in congratulations. "Bloody baked enough desserts for an army as celebration. Those two can find any reason for sweets to be made." And suddenly, she was off. Prattling on and on about Harry and Poppy, the dogs (especially the little terrier that ate Poppy's slipper). Merlin, the words didn't stop coming. Beth just smiled, laughing or shaking her head along with the stories. She barely spoke a word for the remainder of their forty minutes. Jo stopped in surprise, halfway through the story of Taffy stealing Harry's snitch. The little bird on the desk had suddenly hopped forward, chirping out the time and signaling the end of the appointment.

"Same time next week, Josephine?" Beth smiled a touch brighter when the ash-haired witch nodded slightly on her way out the door. She was immensely pleased to not having forced all the words out of Josephine this time around. In the Therapist's book, that was definitely progress.

Surprisingly, Jo left their second meeting feeling much more energized than she had in weeks. She threw the tall building a couple confused glances as she walked passed. What had just happened?

* * *

"Maybe you just needed someone to actually talk to?" Katherine suggested, midway through shoving a bite of shepherd pie into her mouth. "You only have Poppy and Harry around, and you very well can't tell them stories of themselves. You just need proper socialization, like a puppy at the dog park."

Jo just gave her friend a dry look, lips twitching between amusement and pouting. "Gee, thanks. Should I sniff her bum, next time? Really make it official?"

"If that's what makes you feel better, than by all means, sniff away my dear Spot." Katherine continued inhaling her food as she spoke, and Jo legitimately worried she might choke. "So do you think this is the right decision, then? Going to see a therapist."

Shrugging, Jo purposefully finished chewing and swallowing her food like a normal person. Lead by example and all that. "Not sure, yet. The first day, I really had my doubts afterwards, but this time? It just doesn't make any fucking sense." Katherine tried not to laugh at the genuinely confused expression on her friend's face. "S'not funny, you bint. I'm serious, here. How does me talking about the normal, every day happenings make me feel this much better? Yesterday, I would've rather stabbed myself in the eye with a rusty spoon than come out in public. Yet, after that? I'm ready to…well, I don't fucking know what, but I'm ready to _do_. And that's just fucking nonsense." Jo finished with a sharp exhale through her nose and an aggressive bite of harshly speared potato.

"I don't know. Like I said, maybe it was just nice to talk with someone?" Katherine watched as her friend really tried to rationalize it all inside her head. It was as endearing now as it had been fifteen years ago. Plus, still just as amusing. "I think you're not considering some pretty vital information here. You do realize, for the last, oh I don't know, _decade,_ you haven't interacted with barely another human being. Hell, how much did you really interact with even Poppy in that time? Maybe you really did need someone to talk to."

"But I talk to you. I'm talking to you right now, about everything." She waved between them with another frustrated scowl, clearly indicating she couldn't see the difference.

Katie shrugged. "She's neutral. You and her don't have baggage like us. It's an empty well where you can say whatever you want without her feeling one way or the other, without worrying about how she may or may not react. I'm biased, and you have to consider our history when you talk to me. There's a filter." She could see Jo was about to interrupt, but pushed through it, talking quickly before her friend could get a word out. "Even if it's not on purpose, there's a filter. I'm not saying just you do it, either. I don't talk about my children to you as much as literally anyone else within hearing distance. Why? Because there's a filter."

Jo tapped the table, scowling just a bit when she realized that Katie was probably onto something. Neutral was a very good word for her therapist. Neutral was a very good word for the office. Neutral was a very good word for the majority of their conversations so far. What would happen when that started turning _involved_? Humming, she took another bite as she considered that outcome. Helpful or completely unhelpful, which would it be?

"I think you're doing the right thing, by the way." Jo looked to Katie, eyebrows raised and expression clearly open to whatever her friend had to say. She was doing a cracking job at making sense of it all, so far. "It's good for you to have someone to talk to, especially about the hard things. Talking to me about it? Please, I know that's painful. Difficult. It is for me just to think about it all. Who else is there? You already said the AA group isn't enough, that you don't trust them to hear those things. Ted, of course, will always listen and support you, but can he really _help_ you through it all? Who does that leave? Poppy? Harry? I think you need this, and I think you'll appreciate having it."

When she put it like that? Yeah, Katie was spot on. No matter how uncomfortable it's been, even she knew at some point these thoughts and memories _…_ and _nightmares_ ; they all needed to be properly addressed. This might not be the easy thing, but she's already done 'easy'. Drinking away the memories, the thoughts, the nightmares? That was easy. Facing them? Talking about this shit out loud? Airing out all of the wounds she'd drowned beneath the whiskey? It's going to be fucking hard.

"What was it your mother used to say all the time? About hard things?," Jo asked with a smirk, snorting as Katie rolled her eyes instantly.

"Ha, you mean 'Nothing good in life ever comes easy'?" Katie smirked slightly, the memory of imparting that same wisdom on Harry in the hospital waiting room instantly coming to mind. Too bad the quote had been bestowed - _shouted-_ upon her by such a deplorable source.

"Yeah, that's it." Jo waved for the waiter, snatching the check from the table before Katie even realized it was there. "Explain to me again how someone like your mother came upon having a saying like that?"

Katherine snorted, shaking her head. "Who knows? Probably read it in a magazine. Merlin knows that woman never followed it. Sure as hell didn't keep her from hollering it at me every year." They both laughed a bit at that, the memory of Madam Rosier's screeching voice exploding out of a howler nearly every summer a ghost in their ears. "How is she? She ever come around to you marrying Will?"

"Oh, ha-ha, that's rich. You and I both know she'd rather I die in a terrible accident involving fienfyre than to ever accept 'that mudblood and blood-traitor' back into the family." The blonde's voice turned shrill and snooty, perfectly mocking the she-devil who had birthed her.

"Well then, to truly unpleasant twats and their curiously decent words of wisdom." They both snorted, clinking their glasses of water.

"Hear, hear!"

"Honestly, girls these days have no class." The older woman turned an icy glare on them from the neighboring table.

They both ducked their heads, trying to hide their obnoxious chuckles from the glares of a fair few older women. One of which, honest-to-Merlin, actually clucked her tongue.

And like the mature adults they were, Katie and Jo continued snickering as they gathered their things and started for the door. " 'Least she had the decency to call us ' _girls_ '," Katie mumbled between breathy chuckles, eyes flashing happily as they stepped onto the busy muggle sidewalk.

"Ugh, gross. Have we officially reached _that_ age already?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm obviously still a sprightly seventeen year old who most certainly does not have stretch marks or a stubborn pouch of flab anywhere on her body."

* * *

The following week found Jo once again hooked up to small probes, sitting in Healer Wolff's office. The manic man circled her again, checking the probes' placement and his dicto-quill for the seventh time. He even readjusted the blinds. "Too much sunlight might affect the results." As per usual, she didn't question his logic or really even the methods. Leaning back, she just watched and waited, enjoying the show so-to-speak.

She hadn't seen Healer Nyaga in weeks, although his name popped up in nearly every conversation with Healer Wolff. He had stated before that Healer Nyaga was the one to hypothesize her core being blocked. It seemed strange to her that he hadn't been present for any appointment. Today, though, it seemed even more peculiar considering this would be the first real 'test' conducted since her new diagnosis.

"Well, Miss Delacroix, shall we begin? As I explained last week, this test is very similar to the previous attempts at accessing your core. However, today we will not be using your wands." He finally stopped flitting about, coming to stand directly in front of her with that ever present curious and wide-eyed stare. "With the wands, you see, we were attempting to draw on your magic as it has always been. Naturally releasing it from the core, directing it through the body, and expelling it from the wand." His long fingers mirrored his speech, trailing from his stomach and down his right arm. "This time, however, we shall see if we can _reach_ it, to pull it out. We will be using certain objects to see if their own magic can create a ehm- connection with your own magic."

A small tray with three objects lifted from the desk and floated between them. Jo raised an eyebrow, inspecting the mundane looking things. "And what happens if a connection is made? What happens if there isn't a connection? Actually, how exactly do any of these things hold 'their own magic'?" She leaned forward, bringing herself eye level to inspect the marble, match, and leaf.

"Ahh, she is curious, yes?" Both Jo and Healer Wolff jumped in surprise, staring wide-eyed at one another before turning towards the door. Healer Nyaga smiled brightly in greeting before stepping aside to reveal their newest addition. A slightly hunched over, grey haired Indian man in a tunic and pants came into view, a bright smile of his own rivaling Healer Nyaga's. "Very curious indeed. Daljeet can see it in your eyes."

Beyond confused, Jo looked back towards Healer Wolff. He, however, was already moving across the room quickly, an awestruck expression overtaking the usual pinched and wide eyed face. He bowed deeply to the new man, speaking in a rushed language Jo couldn't place. Healer Nyaga moved past the two, coming to stand next to the clearly uncomfortable and bewildered woman. "Hello, Miss Delacroix. I hope you don't mind, but I've brought a guest today." She just frowned, nodding slightly as the new man and Healer Wolff stepped into the room.

"This, Miss Delacroix, is the most renowned Yogi and master of Metaphysical knowledge and practices. Thank you so much for coming, Master Daljeet." Jo began to rise from her chair, but the old man merely waved her back down. He pressed his hands together, bending into an easy slight bow. Surprised, Jo awkwardly returned the gesture, grimacing slightly when the probes pulled at her skin. "We were just about to begin the test. Would you care to observe, Master Daljeet?"

"Daljeet is fine, Healer Wolff. Daljeet is master to no one," he chirped happily, staring curiously at the objects in the tray. Unlike Dumbledore, Jo found the old man genuinely inquisitive and giddy. His expression had remained gentle, calm, and light from the moment he had arrived. It seemed natural. But didn't she used to see Dumbledore the same way? She reminded herself that not every person portrayed themselves honestly, and that she shouldn't fall for an old man's antics again.

"Ah, I see. Healer Wolff has presented you with Elemental tokens. Water," he picked up the marble, clearly displaying the jostled liquid inside. "Fire," the match. "Air," the leaf. "However, you are missing a token for Earth, Healer Wolff. No matter, I have something that would work much easier than picking up each and every one."

Healer Wolff, apparently over his awe, suddenly interrupted. "I was saving Earth for last, actually. However, for proper test read outs, I need Miss Delacroix to interact with each element."

Daljeet, the old knobbled man in a tunic that was obviously highly respected in the Metaphysical Healing world, responded by puckering his lips and blowing the bespectacled German a raspberry. "Too many tests when this woman needs answers. You would like answers, yes?"

"Uh…" She looked between the gobsmacked and affronted Wolff, serene Daljeet, and highly amused Nyaga. "Yeah, preferably an answer today…please?"

Daljeet smiled brightly, showing off a few golden teeth in the process. "Then, we shall run Daljeet's test, yes? Only one object, passed down by generations of Yogi." He then pulled from his pocket an object wrapped inside a white cloth. She could tell he was trying very hard not to touch whatever lay inside as he unwrapped the fabric. A small, perfectly smooth wooden cube lay in the center of the cloth, completely ordinary looking. Yet, Jo felt a tickle of foreboding in the base of her skull. Why was he refusing to touch it? "The _Brahmaand Aankh,_ eye of the universe."

Healer Wolff gasped beside her, falling onto his stool with an expression of astonishment. "Wunderschönen," he whispered, voice thick with wonder. "I never imagined I would see it with my own eyes." Even Healer Nyaga had leaned in closer as well, staring at the little wooden cube with interest.

It was apparently a very special little cube, Jo just didn't understand _how_. "I'm sorry, hold on. What exactly does it _do_?" Obviously, she had interrupted a ' _moment',_ going off of Healer Wolff's disappointed huff.

"The Eye of the Universe, Miss Delacroix, is one of the oldest _raw_ magic relics left in this world. It is a sacred talisman among Daljeet and his people, and _you_ are being awarded the highly unusual and special honor to hold it." His voice was borderline a titter, high pitched and excited. She was taken aback by the sheer reverence in his eyes as he returned to staring at the little block of wood. Was it truly _that_ amazing?

"Right." Jo mumbled, raising an eyebrow again while staring at the small cube. She still failed to see anything magical about it. "But what does it do?" Daljeet openly laughed, clearly not offended by her ignorance. Setting the cube and its white cloth onto the tray next to the other ordinary looking objects, he shooed Healer Wolff from the stool and sat before her. He gave her the impression that he genuinely enjoyed having the chance to answer her questions.

"Ah, you are so curious. You seek answers, yes? The _Brahmaan Aankh_ has the answer to your magic. It is a gift, the Eye of the Mother, and she reveals to the holder their true identity bestowed upon them by Her. Do you wish to know your magic's purpose? Who it is?" She didn't understand what any of this meant. A panic was starting to crawl its way across her skin, reminding her how clueless and powerless she had become. Her eyes darted around slightly, plotting some form of an escape. Something felt very off, and her instinct was to put as much distance between herself and whatever was happening in this room.

But.

Her mind was still curious. Still stuck on the little cube on the handkerchief and the curiously kind old man who offered it. What could this little block of wood really do? Who was this Mother? How does her magic have a purpose? An identity? Wasn't _she_ her magic's purpose and identity?

"Miss, may I show you the Eye? A demonstration? The Eye does not harm, only reveals one's magic." Daljeet's voice was gentle, old knobby fingers tapping the back of her hand as his drooping brown eyes conveyed an understanding of her inner turmoil. Slowly, she dipped her chin in a slight nod, keeping her eyes firmly on the block as he reached for it. His fingers descended on the cube, plucking it easily from the tray. He rolled it gently into the palm of his hand, and suddenly, the little cube wasn't so ordinary anymore.

It was fire. Not on fire. Not burning.

It _was_ fire.

She could feel its warmth across her skin, see the shadows it created dancing along the walls and floor. Inside the flames of warm oranges and yellows, she thought for a moment she could see an eye slowly blink. "You see, Miss? It reveals who your magic is. All magic, in its rawest form, is natural, of the Earth. Created by the Mother, and bestowed upon us by Her. It is the base of you and I, who we are." He carefully held the cube between both hands, allowing her to look straight into the flames as they slowly danced along his fingers. "Some are fire; warm and inviting, yet burning and destructive. Some are water; cool and calm, yet devastating and freezing. There are those who are Air; playful and free, yet harsh and biting. And finally, those of Earth; steady, firm, and stubborn, yet world shattering and crushing. The Eye tells you who you and your magic are at the very core."

And suddenly, looking to Healer Wolff as the image of the wrecked muggle house exploded into her mind, she _knew_. She knew exactly why Healer Wolff had been so sure of his new diagnosis. Sighing, she held out a hand for the little wooden block. Daljeet carefully dropped it from his own, and the fire instantly turned back to wood. It fell easily into the palm of her hand, only slightly heavier than a feather. The three men leaned in, eager to see the results.

After what felt like an eternity of watching the little cube, dismay crashed over her. It remained wooden and ordinary. She looked up to Daljeet with questioning eyes, but he only continued to smile, at ease with the lack of results. "What…why isn't it working?"

"It is, Miss. I can hear her, The Mother. She is calling your magic, coaxing it out of slumber. Patience, yes? The Mother recognizes all of her sons and daughters." He seemed confident, still smiling brightly. Jo tried to soak it in, to feel anything but the constricting panic and despair wrapping around her.

For nearly twenty minutes, with constant reassurances from Daljeet and Healer Nyaga, they waited and watched. Jo was ready to toss the damn thing and run home. She'd rather cry and rage in the privacy of her own house than to listen to yet another theory about what was fucking wrong with her. A deep sigh started out of her nose, but quickly turned into a gasp. The three men snapped to attention.

"What is it, Josephine?," Healer Nyaga asked, but was shushed. The ash haired woman had shut her eyes, eyebrows creasing together in concentration. She knew she had felt _something_. She just needed everyone to be quiet-

 _Ba-dump._

 _Pum-Pum-Brum._

 _ **Ba-dump.**_

 _ **Ba-da-da-dum, ba-da-da-dum, bum-bum-bum-bum, ba-da-da-dum**_ _._

A snort, perhaps a laugh or a sigh of relief escaped her. Daljeet clapped his hands once and smiled in celebration at the small quirk in her lips and the joyful tear trying to escape her eye. "I…I can feel it." Her voice was embarrassingly wobbly, but she didn't care. She could _feel_ her magic. She could _hear_ it echoing through her. She wanted to cry and laugh, hell even dance and sing. Merlin, she still had her magic!

Slowly, she peeked an eye open. Sitting in the palm of her hand, suddenly heavier than before, a perfectly smooth stone cube.

 **XxX**

"You said…that my magic was sleeping, and the…Mother was calling it out?" Daljeet and Jo were seated alone in Healer Wolff's office. Steaming cups of tea in hand as Jo tried to mentally figure out the how the fuck a _cube_ had brought back her magic. She could feel it still, drumming sedately inside as she reached out to it over and over again. Oh Helga, she was going to be pissed if this was some sort of hallucination or dream. "Who is The Mother?"

Once again, the old man's eyes seemed to spark with that genuine excitement by her questions. "The Mother, Miss-"

"I feel that, after what you've done for me, you could call me Jo."

"Ah, it was The Mother that helped you, Miss Jo. She just sent me to do her bidding." And he looked pleased by that, being the servant of this so-called Mother.

"I hope this doesn't insult you greatly, but this 'Mother' sounds an awful lot like a muggle god." Quirking an eyebrow, she watched as his expression turned to one of amusement. "And, to be blunt about it, I don't see why this great Mother would be so focused on helping me. Aren't there, I don't know, people who are more in need of Her help?"

"Ah, so curious you are, Miss Jo." He chuckled, leaning in to sip gently at the piping hot tea. "Perhaps the muggle gods are their own interpretation of The Mother. It is not a religion, my recognition of The Mother. It is simply the understanding that She is everything; the earth, the wind, the flames and the water. She is every plant and every creature, the sun in the sky and the moon at night. She is the cosmos, everything and nothing. She is the one who bestowed magic upon our world, upon us. She is the natural order; life,death and everything in between. It is only instinctive to recognize Her existence."

"That's…how do you _know_?" Jo pressed, her face clearly betraying her skepticism.

"Because I have heard her. I have seen her in every human and animal, the rain and the snow. I have felt her embrace and her anger." He released a deep sigh, sadness in his eyes as he suddenly gestured to her and the room. "You people, you do not understand. This is not your fault, or anyone alive today. What I am telling you, it is to your people 'The Old Way'. Before staffs and wands, magic words, light and dark; there was only _our_ magic. Do you not wonder how the Earth is filled with magic? The ley lines we build on to better access it? We have become a vain people, thinking the magic is only us. That _we_ create it and cultivate it. Magic, _The Mother_ , is everywhere. She gifted it to us long ago, and now, many have forgotten. It is heavy in my heart the sadness this brings me."

She could see his pain clearly, almost feel it herself when a lone shimmering drop gathered in the corner of his eye. It was just _too much_. How could there be this…this _entity_ that no one knew about? Perhaps he was right. They had forgone so many traditions and practices of the Old Ways. This Mother could have very easily been lost to records and memories long gone. It just sounded _crazy_.

"May I be open with you, Miss Jo? About what I see when I look at you?" Frowning slightly, she nodded, curious of what such an interesting fellow thought of her. "I see a strong mountain that has begun to crack and crumble. A mountain that has weathered many storms that have ripped away its flowers and trees. Yes, I see you are a mountain that has begun to crumble and fall in on itself."

 _Okay, ouch?_ Jo frowned deeply, gladly accepting the physical pain of scalding tea over her wilting pride.

"But," his golden teeth flashed in a kind smile when she looked up at him warily. "The foundation of the mountain is strong. There are broken pieces and jagged cliffs, but still a strong and sturdy mountain. You see, birds and the wind will bring new flowers and trees. New dirt and rocks will gather and fill in the cracks. The cracks will still remain, yes, but they will be covered and healed with new life. That is why The Mother has sent me. To remind one of her mountains to stand tall, to brave the storms head on. That She will send you the birds and the wind, fresh rain and sunlight; and that with time, you will be sturdier than ever."

She wasn't sure what she was even supposed to think of that. She felt confused and exasperated by the notion of this 'Mother', yet…she wasn't so sure he was making it all up. Maybe she was still too naive, believing a senile old man had the answers she needed. Hadn't she learned this lesson? "But…I still don't understand. I don't understand any of this. Why was my magic asleep? Why would The Mother bring it back? Why-" He held up a hand, halting her questions with a surprisingly firm glance.

"The Mother put your magic to sleep. It was She who wanted to teach you and make you see-"

"But that doesn't make any sense. Why would she take my magic and then send you to give it back? Why would she even intervene with my life?," Jo snapped, feeling extremely overwhelmed by the old man and his 'Mother'.

"Because The Mother knows there is a road that you must walk. Do you not remember? This is not the first time The Mother has intervened on your behalf. Was there not another time when your magic felt beyond _you_?" He gazed at her imploringly, demanding her mind to drag back a memory she wanted to stay buried. She knew exactly which moment he spoke of.

 **The** night.

The night she lost **everything**.

The night she truly broke.

The night she had shed blood and tarnished her soul.

"Yes, you remember now. The Mother was there. She was your shield and your sword. She felt your grief and your rage, and She wept for you. She went to battle for you. The Mother gave you the ability to wield your magic in its most natural form, even though you had forgotten how. She-"

"Shut up."

They both fell silent. The old man staring sadly at the crumbling mountain as she struggled to remain strong. Her breathing was erratic, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to force the screams from her mind. The memory of hot blood splashing on her skin made her itch. The overpowering feeling of her magic, exploding from her and _doing_ things she hadn't known possible. It had responded only to her thoughts, her carnal dark thoughts. The fear of her own self when it was over. How did he _know_?!

Daljeet sighed, sadness and grief for the young woman weighing heavily on his heart. Slowly, he reached across the small table, and laid his knobby fingers across the back of her hand. "It is a heavy burden that you carry. The Mother grieves for the trials you have faced, but she is asking you to face one more. You are filled with terrible pain in your body, mind and soul. Without magic, you could no longer mask it. She put your magic to sleep because you are not strong. The only way to make you a mountain again was to force you into facing yourself." She was shaking her head, trying to block out his insane words. "The Mother does this all out of love. She gives each and every one of her children trials to face, not to punish them, but to teach them. It is a tough love, a Mother's love, but it is love all the same, Miss Jo."

When she refused to open her eyes and speak to him, he slowly removed his hand from her own. She felt the small table shift when he stood. The sound of paper crumpling quietly as he placed it on the table. "When you are ready, Daljeet shall show you."

Then he was gone, leaving her to crumble and break under the memory of that night.

After a while, Healers Wolff and Nyaga returned to the office. Jo was sitting alone, staring at a small piece of parchment on the table. Healer Wolff wanted to conduct more tests, to see if she could produce a spell, but she had walked out without a word. Healer Nyaga had chased after her, but she had disappeared. Only the descending numbers above the lift indicating where she had gone.

* * *

When she returned home, she found both Poppy and Harry waiting in the Grand Hall. They were eager to know how her appointment had gone. Their excitement quickly dwindled at the expression of anger and despair, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Oh, Mistress. Come with Poppy, she be getting you to bed for rest." Harry trailed behind the pair, his steps slowing with every shuddering breath Jo took. Finally, he just stopped walking, ignoring Taffy's nose when she bumped it against his hand with a whine.

Why couldn't Jo have just _one_ good day?

A couple hours later, Jo finally reemerged from her room. Her face was pale and eyes red, but she had a small smile on her face as she entered the kitchen. Harry and Poppy greeted her with relieved happiness, glad to see she was out of bed and in a much better state. Her pack of dogs filed into the kitchen after her, instantly nosing around the floor for any possible scraps or crumbs. Jo watched them with a content face, falling into her normal seat. When Poppy raised her hand, ready to snap and summon the coffee pot, Jo held up her hand. Her left hand. Which was holding her red wand.

"Mind if I give it a go?"

"You've got your magic back?!," Harry asked excitedly, leaning against the bar-top to eagerly watch. She gave him a wink and shrugged. "We're about to find out. _Accio_ Coffee Pot!"

The three, and even a few dogs, watched in nerve wracking anticipation as the small percolator wobbled about. It jerkily lifted from the counter, spilling some drops of coffee as it twitched, but it came, slow as can be, floating through the air before slapping onto the bar. Poppy was concerned her Mistress would be disappointed by the rudimentary performance. She and Harry waited with bated breath as Jo just stared, blank faced and silent, at the coffee pot in front of her.

"That was very good, Mistre-" Her mouth snapped shut when Jo quickly spun around to face them, eyes wide and lips quickly stretching into a smile.

"Holy shit! Did you _see_ that? Did you bloody see _that_?!" Jo was beaming from ear to ear, those blue eyes sparkling in pure joy as she jumped up and shouted. "I USED MAGIC!"

"YOU USED MAGIC!" Harry joined in, also leaping from his chair to share in the celebratory leaps and kicks.

Soon both Jo and Harry were spinning and jumping together around the kitchen, shouting about magic as the dogs howled and barked. Poppy had to wipe a tear from her eye, a happy tear mind you, at witnessing so much happiness in her kitchen once again.

"Poppy thinks we be needing chocolate cake! Mistress's favorite to celebrate." The elf tried to hide her smug smile when her Mistress shouted her acceptance. That should be her response every time, the little elf thought as flour and eggs floated into her waiting hands. No more of that 'Poppy, you're going to make us fat' nonsense.


	17. Chapter 17 Lucy

**Chapter 17**

 **February 1989**

* * *

 **"I'd thought those memories would be the ones I always cherished, but as the days and years passed by, those beautiful memories became my pain."-Brittainy C. Cherry, _Disgrace_**

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 **X**

Purple. Everywhere they looked was very very purple. Harry had to rub his eyes just to soothe them from the burn of overwhelming _purple_! He felt Jo bump into his back as she fell through the floo behind him, an _oof_ escaping her at the state of the house. "Huh, I thought Katie said Madison's favorite color is blue?" They shared an unsure look. _Everything_ was purple. The carpets, the walls, the vase and hat rack, and even the ceiling. Purple. Everywhere.

Jo snorted a bit, amused albeit still confused. Did they really make the entire house purple?

They had arrived a tad early for the birthday party, a gift in Harry's hands and a pan of desserts in Jo's. It appeared no one had heard the floo. The ash haired witch felt slightly nauseous being back inside this house. Merlin, it has definitely been a while.

Harry, on the other hand, was beyond excited. He had never been to a birthday party before (never mind Dudley's). Plus, he would be meeting other magical children. Ones he could even be going to school with in the future! He really hoped they would like him. Maybe they knew some magic he could try at home?

 **CRASH**

" **MUMMY, SHE'S RUINED MY BIRTHDAAAAYYY!"**

Another loud bang rang through the house, followed by high pitched screeches and the pattering of running feet above them.

" **I HAVE NOT! I MADE EVERYTHING PWETTY FOR YOU!"**

Harry and Jo both shared a wide-eyed stare, once again unsure about what they had walked into.

" **I HATE PURPLE! YOU KNOW THAT BECCA!"**

" **NUH-UH, YOU'RE WEARING A PURPLE CROWN RIGHT NOW!"**

" **BECAUSE YOU MADE IT PURPLE, YOU POO-HEAD!"**

"Madison Josephine, we do not call our siblings poo-heads." Katherine answered in a sing-song voice that promised the pain of a thousand suns. Her hair was done prettily in curls, and she had put on a dash of makeup to hide the bags beneath her eyes. Considering the sounds of war upstairs, she didn't look bothered in the slightest as she walked through the doorway. The walls and floors instantly changed back to normal with a wave of her wand, however the ceilings resolutely remained a blinding bright purple. "Good morning, you two! When did you arrive? I just saw the alert."

"Oh, only a moment before-" **CRASH** "-that started." Jo tried not to laugh or smile, or do anything really that conveyed humor. Katie may look pleasant as can be, but the tightness in her eyes and mouth spelled out impending doom.

"Yes, well. If they DON'T CUT IT **OUT IN ABOUT 2 SECONDS, THERE WILL BE. NO. PARTY!"** The holler echoed, leaving a chilling silence in its wake. The duo shared another look, Harry's eyes wide, and Jo once again trying to hide her laughter. Katie smiled brightly again, nodding sharply before turning her attention back to her guests. "That's better. Oh, Harry, you look so handsome! Did Jo cut your hair?"

The boy self-consciously pat at his slightly shorter hair. "No, Poppy did. Jo tried, but Poppy said she was doing a terrible job and finished." Jo just shrugged and nodded along. "T-thank you for inviting me. You look very pretty today, Miss Katherine."

"Oh Merlin, I love this kid. You're such a sweet boy. Do you want to just live with me? Jo can take the girls home, and you and Liam can stay here. We can trade back when the boys are teenagers?" Harry actually had the audacity to frown and shake his head at Jo, as if she would ever consider taking the war machines upstairs home.

"Ha…no. This one's mine. You've got your own. So what do you want me to do with these? Poppy sent goodies." A greedy light overtook Katie's eyes as she waved them in, leading them down a hallway and into a kitchen. The house itself seemed very ordinary, to Harry. Nothing screamed 'Magic' or 'Witches and Wizards live here!' at him. He was slightly disappointed, honestly.

"Honey, look who's here!" Katherine moved out of their way, revealing a honey blonde haired man with an equally honey blonde haired toddler at the table. The man looked up with a smile, but it quickly turned into a stony glare once he saw the woman in his kitchen.

"Hello, Josephine." Jo nodded in return, trying to keep her face blank of any emotion. His smile returned, bright as can be, when he turned to Harry. "And you must be Harry! Merlin, it's good to meet you, lad. I knew your father and mother quite well at Hogwarts. Same house and all, you know. How old are you now, son?"

"Uh, eight…sir. I'll be nine in July." The man beckoned him closer, nodding to the seat across from him at the table. Jo gave him a pat on the shoulder, obviously skipping out on interacting with the man, and wandered over to help Katherine. Harry slid into the seat, smiling awkwardly at the toddler in a high chair. He had what looked like peas smashed into his honey colored hair. "Hullo, are you Liam?"

The three year old smiled brightly, nodding his head. "I Liam. You like peas? Mama make peas."

"Ehm…yes? I like peas."

"You like cawwots?"

"Yes, I like carrots."

"You like brottli?"

"Yes, I like broccoli." The little boy instantly stuck out his tongue and made a disgusted face.

"Brottli yucky. I like peas."

"Ah, that's enough Liam. Why don't we clean you up, and you can go play?" The little boy nodded eagerly, already climbing down his chair. His father used a spell to clear the mess as he ran, saving the wall from a slimy green hand print. "He's very inquisitive, that boy. Very food driven, actually," William chuckled, watching his son disappear up the stairs to harass his sisters. "My name is William, by the way, William Schott." He extended his hand, and Harry shook it. "It is truly wonderful to meet you, Harry. I never did get the chance before…well, you know. When you were a baby? Always missed it when James and Lily would venture out with you, which wasn't often. Katherine would just gush about you, how sweet and curious you were."

Harry felt incredibly uncomfortable, squirming in his seat. What was he supposed to say to that? "W-were you also a part of-"

"Ah…ehm, not the same way Katherine and your parents were. I was much more out of the action and mayhem. I see Jo has told you about…the _order_?" He had leaned in, whispering the question. Harry got the feeling he wasn't supposed to bring the Order up in conversation. "You're a bit too young to know the details, but I can see why Jo felt it necessary to tell you about it. We don't discuss the _war_ with the children, Harry. Would you mind not bringing it up around them? They're just too young and wouldn't understand, you see."

Harry nodded, and the man visibly relaxed. "Thank you, lad. When you're a bit older, I'd be happy to tell you a bit. I know you're probably very curious about it, but let's not ruin your young years with such adult things."

"I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have brought it up." William waved away his apology, smiling tightly. Discussing the war was not something William Schott usually took part in. "It's quite alright, Harry. Actually, how would you like to meet the girls? I'm sure they'd love to show you the toy room."

Jo watched from the corner of her eye as William led Harry from the kitchen. The kid turned his head, looking for her before he left the room. She tried to give him an easy smile, nodding slightly. She could see the grimace on his face as he disappeared through the doorway, William asking him which house he wanted to be in at Hogwarts. She knew he answered Gryffindor by the loud 'That's my boy! The greatest house in existence!'

"Oy, don't you dare lie like that, William Schott! We both know which house is best!" Katherine shouted through the kitchen, smirking at Jo. The two continued filling serving platters and bowls with snacks, the sounds of running feet and giggles echoing through the ceiling. "Sorry about William. I might have kept your invitation secret 'til this morning." Jo shrugged. William's stoniness wasn't particularly surprising. "He's coming around, but you know him. He's just worried."

"It's fine, Katie. I'll just stay out of his way, today. Can't expect him to welcome me with open arms. Not after everything." Shrugging again, Jo began levitating the full trays along to the dining room. She almost dropped them, though, when Katie let out a high scream.

"YOU HAVE YOUR MAGIC BACK?!"

The party was in full swing by one o'clock. William's younger sister, Annabelle, and her husband with their two sons had arrived. After had come Elaina Diggory, though her boy was at Hogwarts. Following her arrival were the Weasley's with four children; a set of twin boys, another boy that was Harry's age, and a girl Madison's age.

Jo was in her own personal hell.

 _Cock_ , she thought, trying to turn invisible in the corner of the kitchen as more and more people filtered through. Merlin, she hadn't seen any of these people in nearly a decade. And all of these people know _why_. _Cock_ , she thought again, her mind already at work creating the worst possible scenarios. At least Harry looked like he was having fun.

Harry, in fact, was not having fun. The other children all knew each other, and he felt like a blatant sore thumb that didn't belong. The red headed children seemed okay, but they were very loud. Especially the twins, Gred and Forge. _Strange names,_ Harry had thought when they vigorously slapped his shoulders in greeting. Their younger brother, Ron, wasn't even around. He had passed by them all and began filling a plate with all the food from the table. The youngest of the four, a girl named Ginny, kept staring at him strangely, as if she didn't understand why he was there. The other two children, Martin and Jacob, were the cousins of the Schott children. They were quiet, but obviously familiar with the house. They too had disappeared quickly. Soon, Harry found himself playing with the only child who seemed interested in him, Liam. Who, he discovered, has a lot of toy cars and trucks.

He especially enjoyed when Harry made the _vroom-vroom_ sounds.

"Oh Godric! Josephine Delacroix is that really you?!" The children were oblivious to the sudden tension in the room. William's sister, Annabelle, was approaching like a shark on a blood trail, a wide and horribly happy smile on her face. Jo tried not to grimace or scowl, but she couldn't hide the shock when the little woman all but tackled her in an embrace. "Oh, Josephine, it's been years! Merlin, it is _so_ good to see you!"

She forced on a smile, patting the younger woman's shoulder with an embarrassed chuckle. " 's good to see you too, Annie. I see you've had some children." Annabelle laughed happily, nodding as she finally pulled back. She didn't let go, Jo noticed.

"Yes, those are my boys, Martin and Jacob. Boys, come here, I want to-" Annabelle turned around, looking across the room for her sons. "Where the hell did they go? We _just_ got here." Exasperated, Annabelle gave Jo's shoulders a _tight_ squeeze. "I'm sorry, Josephine. Just give me a moment. If there's a telly in the house, those two will sniff it out faster then you can say 'pumpkin juice'." Blessedly, the younger Schott had released her, stomping away in search of her spawn.

Heat crept into Jo's cheeks at all the eyes suddenly on her. "Hello, everyone. It's good to see you all again. I've, uh, got to _go_ , though." With the most awkward wave imaginable, Jo just managed another smile before turning around and leaving the room. She could at least hide in the bathroom for an hour or so. Katie can't hold an 'upset stomach' against her.

"So, what's your name, then? I don't remember what Maddy called you." Harry looked up from his and Liam's newest game. It's called 'Liam will bring you a book, ask you to read it, then slam the book shut once you've read the first sentence and throw it to the floor'. The one red head, Ron, was staring down at him with half a sandwich in his hand and a full plate in the other. "I'm Ron, in case you don't remember. Ron Weasley."

"Yeah, I remember. I'm Harry." Ron had to readjust the plate and sandwich situation in his hands before offering one, which had mustard on his thumb, to shake. "Having fun?," Harry asked, happy someone his age was talking with him.

"I like the food. Especially these things," Ron pointed to a small chocolate pastry, "my mum doesn't let us have chocolate too much. Says it'll make us too rowdy."

"Oh, those are the ones Poppy made. She sent a whole tray of stuff with us for Miss Katherine." Ron's eyes lit up at that, a mischievous smile pulling at his lips.

"A whole tray?" He hadn't quite understood what William Schott had meant when he said 'food driven' earlier. However, he had a gut feeling that one Ron Weasley perfectly fit inside that category. "Yeah, it's in the kitchen," Harry said, his own smile turning just a touch devious. The two looked around the room, but all the adults seemed preoccupied, talking among themselves. Better yet, they were all in the living room. Quietly, the two boys snuck from the room and into the kitchen. The tray, topped full of chocolate and cakes and sugar, was quickly scavenged. Little Liam Schott waddled after the two, the sight of desserts setting him like a hound after the boys as they scampered up the stairs.

Shutting the door quickly, Jo leaned her head against it and tried to breathe deeply. What the fuck was happening to her? She knew what she had been walking into today, all the people that would be attending. Hell, she had even practiced smiling in the mirror and imaginary small talks. She just felt so hot and jittery and Merlin, why is it so hard to _breathe_?

There was a sudden clatter behind her, the sound of something falling in the tub. Slowly, she lifted her head, blue eyes meeting an identical pair of wide brown. The twin boys in the tub opened their mouths, a jumble of words already starting to pour out, but Jo just raised a hand. They looked at one another, communicating quickly through lifting eyebrows and quirking lips. They opened their mouths again, but Jo just shook her head.

"Nope." She returned to leaning her forehead against the door and breathing deeply. _Fantastic_ , she dryly thought, _of all the kids to be stuck with it would be the Weasley's._ Without lifting her head from the nice cool wood, she slowly rotated it enough to peek at the two boys. Merlin, they had gotten big, had to be almost Hogwarts age now. Probably this next school year. She supposed that's what happens when you don't see a couple of babies for nearly a decade. They do tend to grow up. Example A, Harry Potter. Example B, Fred and George Weasley.

"Hello there, Fred. George. What mischief are you two getting into today?" Well, that clammed the two right up. Both of their mouths snapped shut after the surprise of her knowing their names. They just smiled 'innocently', their brown eyes widening to take on a shining puppy dog look. "Your hands are blue, did you know?"

"Aw, hell-"

"Must've spilled the dye-"

"When we dropped the bottle."

She felt her lips tilt up a bit, that twin talk eerily reminiscent of their late Uncles. They both sighed, peering up at her from the tub with that look. Oh no, not one of guilt. Looks of disappointment that they'd been caught out. Plus a little worry that she would most likely tell their mother. And they'd just gotten out of their latest grounding!

"Who's hair were you going to dye blue? You know Madison would've loved it. What with it being her favorite color and all." The two just couldn't seem to help themselves. An interested party asking about their prank? They couldn't let such a rare happening pass them by.

"Ickle Becca, of course-"

"As a Birthday present to Maddy-"

"Seeing as Ickle Becca turns everything purple."

"Hmm. I'd noticed." Snorting, she finally leaned away from the door and plopped down next to the tub. The boys looked at her strangely, then one another before just shrugging and sitting inside the tub as well. "Well, go on then. I'm sure it'll cheer the birthday girl right up after this morning."

The twins gave her another suspicious look. An adult had _never_ given them express permission to actually prank someone before. Fred quirked an eyebrow at George, who raised both of his in return. They tilted their heads, shrugged again, and turned back towards the strange woman. She wasn't paying them much attention, her head resting against a hand as she stared at the wall. Her other hand was keeping a light tempo, her nails ' _tick-ta-tick-tick-ta-tick-tick'_ -ing against the floor. Quickly, before she changed her mind, Fred dug the little bottle of dye back out from his pocket and dumped it into the bottle of shampoo George held out.

"So, you know who we are-"

"But haven't told us who you are-"

"We've never seen you before-"

"Oh yes you have, you just don't remember," Jo mumbled, turning to smirk at them. "Last I saw you two, you were just little tykes still running about in nappies. Bad as all hell then, too. Kept a smile on our faces, though." The two shared another confused glance full of silent conversation. "I'm Josephine, but everyone just calls me Jo. Although, your older brothers would call me 'J' a lot. So did you two actually, now that I'm thinking about it."

George suddenly looked excited, leaning against the lip of the tub to whisper conspiratorially. "You're talking about the war, aren't you?" Fred quickly joined him as they both stared at her eagerly. She frowned, eyes squinting suspiciously at the boys before nodding only once. "You were part of the order!" Fred whisper-shouted, his brother nodding enthusiastically beside him.

Sighing, Jo nodded again. "Why do I have the feeling your mother would be spitting mad if I told either of you anything about the war?"

"Oh, well, I don't think Mum would-"

"Actually spit, maybe-"

"Turn a bit red and-"

"Her hair'll get all-"

"Puffy." they finished together with a chuckle.

" _Great_. Well, time to leave the bathroom, boys. Been a real pleasure seeing you both again, but I did come in here for a reason. Which, surprisingly, was not to turn a five year old's hair blue." They grumbled a bit, but soon enough, both boys were out of the tub and leaving the bathroom. Before she could shut the door, though, George turned back around with Fred peaking over his shoulder.

"How come we've never seen you before?-"

"Mum and Dad still talk to a lot of-"

"Order members and make us-"

"Go to their kid's birthdays and-"

"Get togethers. How's come-"

"We've never seen-"

"Or _heard_ of you?"

The ash-haired witch tried to keep an air of nonchalance in place, leaning against the door casually, but she could feel her mouth pull down in a small frown. "I've been…away. Just got back before Christmas." They looked at her dubiously, obviously unimpressed with her excuse.

"You've been away for eight years?" Fred asked, completely unconvinced. George just raised his eyebrows, challenging her story with his expression alone. Twin teamwork at its finest.

"Yep. Good talk boys. Maybe I'll meet you again in the loo for our next chat. Now, scat, before I change my mind 'bout telling your mum-" She didn't even get to finish her threat before both boys were trotting away. She closed the door with a loud snap, releasing a sharp breath through her nose. She sat herself on the floor again, this time leaning her back against the door. "That could've gone better," she mumbled to herself with a slight chuckle. Well, at least they distracted her for a moment.

"Who's that boy?," Ginevra (Ginny) Weasley asked Madison as they played with the older girl's new dollies. The blonde looked over her shoulder, but didn't see who the redhead was talking about. "He's not in here. He ran off with Ron a while ago. The boy with the black hair? Green eyes?"

"Oh, that's Harry. Mummy's friends with his Mum, Josephine." Madison scowled, still upset that her godmother had yet to even speak to her. On her **Birthday**! "He's weird. I just met him today. We tried playing with him before you all got here, but he didn't know how to play _anything_. He's really quiet, too."

"Wasn't he playing with Liam?" The older girls followed Becca's pointing, watching as Liam struggled up the stairs by himself. They could hear him calling out 'Hewy', obviously looking for his missing playmate. "What d'you think they doing upstairs?" She suddenly whipped around, ignoring a blonde pigtail as it whipped her in the eye. "They better not be touching my wocks!"

Ginny and Madison sighed, putting down the dollies to follow after Becca as she marched for the stairs. They made quick work of them, trailing behind Liam as he searched the rooms for 'Hewy?'. The redhead's ear pricked while the other three searched the girls' room, Becca obviously relieved they hadn't found her shoe box full of rocks. There was an awful lot of giggling and shuffling coming from the next room. Liam, already done with the purple and blue room, trailed after her as she approached the white door. The noise was definitely coming from in there, and it sounded distinctly like boys. Quickly, she grabbed the handle and slammed the door open.

"Aha!"

Fred, George, Harry, Jacob, Martin, and Ron jumped in surprise, nearly spilling the tray of treats. "Hewy!" Eyes still wide with shock, Harry chuckled indulgently at the three year old as he plowed into the room and onto Harry's lap. Instantly, he began eating whatever chocolate goody he could reach, which Harry dutifully tried to control just how much he shoved in his mouth at one time. The other boys, however, did not smile under the horribly smug face of Ginny Weasley.

"Gin, did you want-"

"Some desserts?" The twins offered hopefully. Ginny may be a girl, but food drove a hard bargain for any Weasley. However, before the youngest redhead could respond, there was a truly terrible sound emitting from behind her. The angry and high pitched screeching of one Madison Josephine Schott.

"I'M TELLING MY MUMMY!"

Harry tried to hide behind Jo as the birthday girl screamed and thrashed. The redheaded boys were being held in place by their very red faced mother, eyes downcast and clearly pouting. Martin and Jacob, looking bored and quite used to the tantrums of their cousin, were just sitting and staring at a moving painting on the wall. Katherine and William looked exasperated by their daughters antics, trying to talk her down while also reminding her there were many more snacks and birthday cake.

"BUT-THOSE-WERE-MY-TREATS!" Each word was separated by a gulping sobbing gasp.

"We said we're sorry," Ron grumbled. He hissed, wincing slightly when his mother's hand tightened over his shoulder. The twins equally grumbled and hissed, sending their brother a glare when their mother's other hand dug into the flesh of their shoulders as well.

Harry felt immensely guilty and uncomfortable. He kept sneaking glances up at Jo, but she had her head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut in an effort to keep a headache at bay. "Holy shit." He heard her whisper, as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, okay. Hey, kid."

Katherine and William snapped their heads around to Jo. Katie with wide warning eyes, and William with a glare. The ash haired witch gave them an easy smile before squatting down to get level with the _extremely_ upset girl. " 'ey, Madison."

Madison instantly quieted at the raspy voice, staring up in surprise at her godmother. _Who was finally speaking to her_. Wiping at her eyes, she straightened herself back up and faced the woman with a sniffle. "I think the boys are really sorry for eating those desserts. They all feel really bad, right boys?" Madison looked around as all of the boys nodded and mumbled apologies. "But I've got some good news. Poppy, she lives with me and Harry, made those for you and your family. I bet, if you wanted, she'd make you more. Would that make this…okay?" _Make this stop?_ Jo grit her teeth in an attempt to not be _that_ asshole.

Sniffling, Madison nodded quickly. Jo let out a sigh, relieved the screaming was finally over. "Great, I can pop home real quick, and see if she'll-"

"Can I come?!" Madison stared up at her hopefully. William shook his head violently no, but Katie smacked his arm, observing her best friend and daughter interact with a sappy smile. "Please please please? Mummy can I go to Jo's? I promise I'll be good and listen and not touch anything I'm not supposed to and-"

"Maybe another da-" William was absolutely trying to catch Jo on fire with his stare, she could feel it. Katie once again elbowed him, smiling widely at her daughter. "Of course, love. Why don't we thank everyone for coming and say our goodbyes first, then you can visit with Jo and Harry."

Once everyone was focused on the Schott family again, Jo let a grimace overtake her face and rubbed at her forehead again. "Merlin, what the fuck…" Shaking her head, she turned to stare down at Harry. He was already looking at her with wide, absolutely terrified eyes. "What?"

"You're letting that… _that_ come home with us?" He couldn't do it. He'd dealt with that behavior for long enough with his own cousin, thank you very much. What was Jo thinking?!

"Oh, she'll be fine. If she starts screeching like that at home, Poppy'll put a stop to it. Trust me. 'sides, it'll only be for an hour, tops." A smirk pulled at her lips when Harry started to pout slightly. "Anyways, you definitely deserve it. What were you thinking sneaking off with that whole tray?" He instantly turned pink, shrugging and mumbling some form of an answer. They were interrupted, though, by a tap on Jo's shoulder.

Turning around, she was surprised to find Molly Weasley smiling up at her. "Josephine, it is so good to see you." Her bright blue eyes flickered between the ash haired witch and black haired boy openly. "How have you been?" Four little redheads peeked around their mother curiously.

"Oh, you know, can't really complain. How have you been, Molly? It's been a while." She cleared her throat nervously when the woman once again flickered her eyes to Harry. "Right, yes. This is Harry."

"Hello, dear. I'm Mrs. Weasley." Harry smiled slightly, nodding at her with wide and guilty eyes. Was she going to yell at him for giving Ron the chocolate? "I noticed you and Ron were getting on so well, today. I was wondering if you and your… Josephine would like to stop over for a play-date?" The three boys behind her scrunched up their faces at the word 'date'. However, they quickly recovered to stare at both Jo and Harry hopefully.

"Oh, um…if Jo's okay with it?" Harry gave Jo an equally hopeful look. She sighed, glancing at Molly. The woman just smiled kindly, inviting as ever. She returned the smile warily.

"I'll write you, Molly. We'll arrange a day." The boys were instantly herding together, talking quickly and leaving the women behind as the redheads told Harry all about 'the burrow'. The girl, Ginny, quickly followed after them, trying to insert herself into the conversation without much success. "They're so big. You've got some good kids there, Molly."

"Thank you. Harry seems like a sweet boy, but that's not very surprising seeing as to who his parents were." Jo turned back on the woman, obviously uncomfortable and very uncertain how this conversation would turn. They didn't speak, just stared at one another. Molly stared intensely into Jo's eyes, clearly searching for _something_. Finally, after a dragging silent minute, she suddenly threw her arms around the taller woman and crushed her in an achingly familiar hug. "It is _so_ good to see you. We wanted to reach out, of course. All of us, but we didn't…we weren't sure what to say. Everyone was so-"

"It's alright. I…I wasn't exactly around for anyone to find. I'm back now, though," Jo mumbled into the woman's shoulder, her voice raspy and thick. Molly couldn't help the gentle smile when she felt the woman snuggle in deeper and squeeze her back. "I'm sorry for not sticking around. I know," sighing, Jo paused to pull back. "I wasn't the only one who lost loved ones. I was selfish and didn't think about all of you."

"Oh, sweetheart, no one was angry with you for taking time for yourself. We were just worried. We still are. Albus told us you had a terrible accident-"

"Dumbledore? Why would he tell you that?"

"Oh, well he had as all searching for Harry, of course. When he went missing those months ago. When Albus told us _you_ had found him, Godric, we were so relieved. Then, he had come to us to ask us if we could take Harry in, seeing as you were recuperating from that accident. Naturally, we said yes, but then, he told us it wouldn't be for a few months. But seeing as you're recovered and home…." Molly trailed off, her face growing concerned by the sudden paleness overtaking Jo. "Are you alright, dear?"

No she damn well wasn't. Jo shook her head, forcing another smile onto her face. "Yes, yes. Sorry, I just haven't eaten yet today. But, yes, I am all healthy and okay, and Harry's still staying with me and going to school and... Actually, I better find him. We need to be heading out if Poppy's to make anymore treats tonight." She gave Molly an awkward pat on the shoulder before quickly leaving the room.

"Was it something I said?," Molly questioned aloud. She turned around to search for her husband. He was crouched beside some large box with moving pictures. Apparently, he was trying to get the two boys to teach him how to use something called a 'telly'?

Madison was nearly vibrating with excitement. All the guests had finally left, and after waiting an eternity for her parents to finish cleaning; she was finally going to Josephine's house! The weird boy, Harry, kept throwing her strange glances. When she had tried to ask him what his house was like, all he had said was "It has trees". She had scowled at him, declaring she wasn't going to talk to him if he was going to tease her and tell lies. He had frowned at her before shrugging and telling her she would see for herself, then.

 _Finally_ , Jo and her mother appeared. Unfortunately, Becca and Liam were with them. Madison scowled again, already starting to sulk. Josephine was _her_ godmother. Why did they have to come too?

"Alright, let's get going." Jo stepped into the floo, not noticing when Madison pushed passed Harry to join her. The little girl gripped her hand tightly, smiling up at her in obvious excitement. Jo offered a small uncertain smile in return, holding her other hand out for Harry to take. He gave Madison a glare as he stepped into the fireplace. "You two ready? Delacroix Holdings."

Madison didn't even close her eyes, and her smile only widened as they passed grate after grate. Quickly, they were spit out into a… _forest_? The little girl looked around in confusion at the towering trees and foliage. Harry and Jo were already walking, the former throwing her a cheeky smirk. "C'mon, kid. Don't want to get crushed by your mum, do you?" Madison hopped away from the fireplace, still taking in the gigantic room.

The fireplace whooshed, spitting out Katherine and her other two children. Becca gasped in wonder. "Twees!," Liam shouted, already struggling out of her arm to run through the room. Becca ran with him, pointing out every purple flower in the room. The blonde witch felt a bubble of emotion start to clog her throat. How long had she been waiting to see them running in this house? She caught Jo's eye and smiled brightly. Her friend rolled her eyes, that little smile of hers tilting her lips.

"Josephine, _why_ is your house full of trees?" Madison hadn't moved very far from the fireplace. Her little hands were propped on her hips as she stared curiously at the Grand Hall. "I've never seen a house that looked like this before."

"Just the way it is, kid. Magic and all that." Jo mirrored the little girl's stance, hands on her hips and gazing curiously at the trees above. "Some things don't have a proper explanation." Madison pursed her lips slightly as she moved closer to an extremely tall willow tree. A surprised shriek left her when the tree most certainly shook and rained leaves down around her. Her little face turned red when Harry giggled at her. She spun around to glare at him.

"I told you there were trees." She could tell he wasn't really being mean, only poking a bit of fun. However, she was embarrassed and didn't really like him all that much, anyways. So with a mighty indignant huff, she stalked past him and took a hold of Jo's hand. She wasn't here to see _trees_ anyways. If she wanted to see trees, she would have gone outside.

"Madison Josephine, behave." Katherine warned her daughter, already seeing the warning signs of a temper. "We are guests in Josephine and Harry's house. Be respectful and _nice_." Her daughter plastered on a bright smile. "I will, Mummy!" She couldn't help but roll her eyes to the ceiling, willing some spirit or deity somewhere to give her strength. What in the world was she going to do with that girl?

* * *

Jo couldn't help but inspect her _goddaughter_ as the little girl and Poppy made cakes and pastries. Well, Poppy did most of the work, but she let Madison stir. She couldn't help but wonder how so much… _personality_ could fit inside someone so little. Minus that little show in the Grand Hall, the girl had been a perfect little angel, so Jo really didn't have much reason to be scrutinizing her. However, she just couldn't shake the branding 'little she-devil' from her mind. She hoped to Merlin she hadn't been that bad as a child.

"But I don't like strawberries," Madison whined, pulling the bowl away from the container Poppy had levitated over. "Only Liam and Becca like those."

"Little Miss, don't you's want your brother and sister to have some treats of their own? Show them how good you's be at baking?" Poppy, bless her, patiently waited as the little girl thought this over. With a slightly reluctant sigh, she nodded and set the bowl back in place. "That be a good miss. Now, we's stir." The elf offered a wink to her Mistress who stuck a thumb up in response. Poppy could tell she was watching the Little Miss closely, but she needn't worry one bit. Poppy had handled her Mistress as a child, this little girl was easy.

Soon enough, all the cookies and cakes were set in the oven. Poppy excused herself from the kitchen to go and check on the other children. Jo felt distinctly awkward once left alone with the little girl. Madison had sat herself right next to Jo, kicking her legs happily as she sipped away at some hot coco. After a few minutes of complete silence, she turned to stare up at her godmother questioningly. "Aren't you going to say something?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Jo turned to face the girl as well. "Aren't you?"

"I mean, don't you want to ask me things? Like my favorite color?-"

"It's blue."

"Well, what about my favorite animal?"

 _Okay, she has me there_. Once again, she had to remind herself not to be _that_ asshole. "Alright, what's your favorite animal?"

"A badger, of course." Madison smiled brightly again, staring up at Jo expectantly. When the woman only hummed and sipped her coffee, the girl pursed her lips. "Don't you want to know other things? Like my favorite holiday? My favorite thing to do? My favorite book?"

Breathing slowly out through her nose, Jo frowned down at the little girl. If she wanted to tell her so bad, why didn't she just spit all of this out? "You know, I'm more than willing to listen to you tell me all of those things. You don't have to wait on me to ask them."

"But I want you to ask them." Madison pushed. Obviously, her godmother just didn't understand. "If you ask, that means you want to know. If I just tell you everything without you asking, then how do I know you want to know those things about me?"

"Because I just told you I'll listen to anything you want me to know." Instantly, Jo wanted to eat her words. Madison had suddenly deflated, her expression turning hurt. The ash haired witch felt like _that_ asshole, now. Obviously, her goddaughter (no matter how she-devilish) had been hoping to bond with her. She was failing spectacularly at this whole godmother thing, and they'd only been alone together for five minutes. Sighing, she reached out and gave the girl's shoulder a little squeeze. "Sorry, I'm not…eh…I'm not good at talking to people. It's not that I don't want to know these things, because I certainly do. You can ask your mum. I've never been good at…saying the right things?"

"It's okay," Madison mumbled. "Jacob and Martin always tell me I'm too pushy, and that I talk too much. Daddy told me I need to let other people ask me things, so I thought…"

"You should let me ask?"

Still pouting slightly, the little girl nodded and stared up at her with big hazel puppy dog eyes. "Sorry." Snorting slightly, Jo just smiled and shook her head. "No, you're okay. Don't apologize. Go on then, I want to know everything you can think to tell me."

The gloom suddenly morphing once more into a bright smile, Madison sat back up and started kicking her feet happily again. "Well, my favorite holiday is Christmas. My favorite book is 'Alice in Wonderland'. My favorite thing to do is read. I also like drawing. My favorite time of the year is winter. My absolute favorite shirt to wear is my Hufflepuff quidditch shirt. My favorite pants to wear are my dragon jammies. My favorite shoes are my rain boots. My favorite blanket is the Hufflpuff blanket. My favorite…."

Jo tried not to laugh as the girl listed off all of her many _many_ favorite things. _Maybe not so much a she-devil_ , Jo thought wryly. She had a feeling that Madison Josephine Schott was going to make herself into a very permanent fixture in her life, so she had best get used to lots of chatter.

After some time, Madison had finally run out of favorite things to tell her godmother about. Jo suggested they find the others, and they left the kitchen. They didn't have to go far, though. The others were gathered in a room on the second floor. A room Jo hadn't seen open in a very long time. The nursery.

Harry, Liam and Becca were playing some version of dragons and castles. Harry, deemed having the best roar, was flying the stuffed dragon up and around the castle of blocks. From inside, Liam and Beccas were throwing balls and other stuffed creatures to fend off the attack. Katherine was content as all get go, sprawled across a thick lush carpet and practically asleep. Poppy, bless her, was levitating more ammo into the castle, and keeping her every watchful eye out for any mishaps or tears.

"Maddy, huwwy and get in the castle befo' the dwagon gets you!" Becca yelled, peeking her head over the castle wall while throwing a ball straight into Harry's face. "Huwwy Maddy!" Liam giggled and shrieked, dodging past Harry to pull his oldest sister to safety. "The dwagon!"

"Not the good bowls!" Katie sprung up from the carpet, staring around in confusion at the nursery and children playing. Her dazed look cleared when she noticed Jo smirking at her from the doorway. "Ah, nevermind. Does this mean we can have some grown up time?" Oh Helga, she wanted- no _needed_ \- some grown up time.

"Yeah, sleeping beauty, let's go have some tea. I'm sure Poppy can hold down the fort." Poppy nodded enthusiastically, absolutely in her element as she aided the children in their fierce and epic battle. Katie didn't need to be told twice, hopping up from the floor and pulling Jo away from the room in record time. "Good, now you can tell me all about how you suddenly have your magic back. With actual details this time, please."

* * *

"So," Katie started once Jo had finished regaling her with the tale of an odd man and his wooden cube. "Your magic is back, but it's not _back-back_? What exactly does that mean?"

"It means that I can levitate a couple trays into your dining room, but I can't cast a patronus. My core is still very weak, possibly worse than your three year old's. They've given me exercises to do, to strengthen it back up to standard, but it's going to take some time." Jo grimaced slightly. "I tried to cast a protego yesterday, nearly fainted. Anything above first year spells seems to just drain my magic instantly. Although, it has faintly improved. You should've seen my summoning charm that first night, nearly dropped the coffee pot midway."

Katie smiled lightly, trying for encouraging, but she couldn't help feeling almost pity for her friend. She couldn't imagine being that restricted in magic again. "Sounds terrible, if I'm being honest. I mean, it's wonderful you have your magic back, but I can't even imagine…" Jo just nodded sullenly.

"Yeah, it's fucking driving me up the wall, honestly."

Deciding it was time to veer from the subject, Katie asked about the most intriguing part of the story. "And this 'Mother'? Sounds a bit loony, if you ask me."

Jo snorted, nodding her head along in agreement. "Tell me about it. I felt bad, y'know, blowing off something he felt so strongly about, but tell me that doesn't sound exactly like-"

"God?"

"Right. It's a wonderfully uplifting thing, in theory or fairy tales, but real life? How does it work? It's just crazy." She said this, Katie nodded in agreement, but they both still wondered about how, then, had Jo's magic come to be blocked? A blocked core was unheard of. Even more curious, her healers offered no other explanation. "Right?"

"Right."

They continued on from the conversation of Jo's magic and strange magical deities. They polished off a few treats and a pot of tea, talking about this and that. Katie had had a rather interesting week involving a few muggles that had somehow gotten their hands on an honest to merlin dragon egg. Also, Madison had a dance recital coming up, and she would love it if Jo would come. "It would absolutely mean the world to her." Rolling her eyes slightly, Jo agreed to go. She somehow also agreed to taking the children to the beach through the world room. When they finally decided it was time for Katie and her children to head home, Jo wasn't sure exactly how many outings and happenings she was now involved in.

"So, what about that Daljeet fellow?"

"What about him?," Jo grumbled, thinking they were well past this subject.

"Well, are you going to find out what he wants to teach you?"

Jo didn't really answer, only shrugged and frowned in thought. She had been keeping the little man and his curious ways far from her mind. However, he always crept back in, especially at night when she was woken from nightmares and had nothing better to do than think. Would she ever find out what he wanted to show her? She wasn't sure her answer was still a solid no.

* * *

It had been nearly a week since Madison Schott and her siblings had come to his house and played with him. A week since little Becca Schott had found something peculiar behind the bookshelf and showed it to Harry. A week of Harry feeling torn between angry, sad, and confused. And it all came down to the carefully folded photograph he had hidden away in his father's Potter book. Every night, after Jo had tucked him in, and he was sure no one would be peeking in his room; he would take the photograph out of the book, carefully unfold it, and just stare as his emotions warred with one another.

Jo, obviously younger, smiled brightly back at him. Beside her, an older gentleman with bright platinum blonde hair and her same sapphire blue eyes, had an arm around her shoulder and was squeezing her into his side happily. On her other side towered a young man, slightly older than Jo with coal hair, brown eyes and a gruff sort of look, had his arm wrapped around her waist. In her arms, a small baby with bright sapphire blue eyes and the tufts of ash colored hair. The baby was obviously a girl, with her little bow head band and pretty red dress. She looked so much like Jo, except for her nose. That was obviously a feature she had gained from the coal haired man who tickled her belly happily.

He had known Jo had had a family. He knew about her father, mother, and younger brother dying in the war. He knew she had had a husband who had also died, presumably also during the war. He hadn't realized Jo had also had a daughter. Seeing as there was no little girl close to his age running around the house, he was sure she was also dead.

And he was so stuck. So very very stuck.

An overwhelming sadness overtook him at the thought of just how much Jo had truly lost. He understood losing family and being left behind. How could he possibly understand the pain she felt, _still feels_ , from losing a child? His throat clogged every time he even tried to imagine being in such a position.

But he was also confused. How had he not known? Why were there no pictures of her husband and daughter? Why did she never talk about them? Why didn't she tell him? Did she not think he would understand? He might be young, he is only a child, but he understands this pain just as well as any other. Maybe not exactly, but he imagines he understands it enough.

And then he was angry. Angry Jo hadn't told him. That she had never even hinted at it. Even more so, that she was obviously hiding it. He had gone through all of those boxes of pictures, every single one, and had not seen a single photograph with either her husband or daughter. How could she pretend they just didn't exist? How could she want to forget them? Harry would give anything for a single memory of his parents.

So finally, after a week of staring at this photograph and feeling a great many things about it, Harry decided it was time to just ask Jo.

Jo looked up in surprised when Harry stomped into her room. The instinctual smile at his presence dimmed quickly in the wake of his obviously upset demeanor. "What's wrong, kid?" He didn't answer right away, only stalked towards the bed with purpose. When he had finally reached the end of the bed, he gently laid a photograph on the comforter before staring into her eyes with a hurt expression.

"Why didn't you tell me about them?" Jo could only stare at the photograph, her mouth slightly open in shock. Her heartbeat quickened as her mind started to turn, realizing exactly what she was staring at. "Why didn't you tell me?" His question was a bit sharper this time, his anger rearing its head over the sadness and confusion.

He quickly backed down, though, when Jo's lips met with tremble. She looked very much like she was trying hard not to cry as she reached a shaking hand towards the photograph. "W-where did you find this?" Her voice cracked, barely a whisper as her fingers dared not touch the image, but merely floated over the cherubic face of her little girl.

"Becca found it in the nursery, behind a bookcase. I-" Harry stopped talking, not really sure what he should say now. He had asked his question, showed her the picture, and now he felt _terrible_. He didn't know what exactly he wanted now that he initiated this. Did he even want her to answer his question? Well, yes, but perhaps this was not the way he should have done it. Jo looked-

" _Kid, I'm_ _ **broken**_ _."_

Her words from months ago suddenly rang through his head. Understanding, true understanding, of what she meant washed over him like ice water. She hadn't just meant her drinking. She was broken because of _this_. She was broken because she had lost **everything**.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I-"

Finally, Jo looked up at him, and she looked devastated. She just shook her head quietly, shrugging her shoulders as her lips trembled once again. "Why?"

Harry didn't have an answer. Suddenly, Jo's eyes hardened in a way he hadn't seen since the night her magic exploded. " **Why?** "

"I-I wanted to know why you never told me." Harry tried to stand a bit more resolutely, to make himself feel confident again in asking her. It didn't quite work, though, with all the guilt twisting his stomach so badly he thought he'd be sick.

Jo let out a snort, shaking her head again with an obviously humorless laugh. "Maybe, kid, because it's none of your business." She gave him this look then, one that he would later know as disappointment. "I know you're ever so curious about it, I get it, but _sometimes_ I don't want to talk about certain fucking things. Especially, things like my _dead daughter_. Can I at least have that? Can I at least have that _one_ thing?" She snatched the photo up, slamming it face down on her night stand with a sharp exhale through her nose. "Did you even stop to think, before marching down here demanding an answer, that I just didn't _want_ to tell you about her? What exactly did you want to know?"

"I-"

"Did you want to know her name?"

"Ye-"

"Did you want to know when she died?"

"..."

"How she died?"

Harry's shoulders started rise as true shame flooded him.

"Guess what? It's none of your damn business unless _I_ decide _she_ is someone you should know about." Jo stopped then, breathing deeply as she tried to reign her anger back in. She already knew she was going to regret how she's handled this, but right now, she was just too bloody angry to care. "Please, Harry, I can't do this. I sincerely cannot do this right now. Please go back to your room."

She didn't need to ask twice. Harry was gone, very nearly running to escape her wrath and his guilt. He stopped outside the thick foliage of her doorway, taking in a deep and shaky breath. He wished he had just kept running, though. Jo's sobs, quiet as they were, invaded his ears and broke his heart.

Guilt and shame tucked him in that night, and they hung with him through the next morning. Jo barely looked at him at breakfast, and they barely spoke when she walked him to school. He was still too ashamed to apologize when he returned home in the afternoon. Jo didn't tuck him that night, only offered a sad eyed and raspy "Night, kid," before turning back to her book.

* * *

"Can I ask you something? Just for your opinion? Not, y'know, what you should say as a professional?"

Beth frowned slightly, nodding her head for Jo to continue. "Wha-" she stopped, licking her lips slightly as she tried to find the proper words. "Which would you say is worse; to lose something you'll never remember, or to lose something you'll never forget?"

The therapist sat back, her chin disappearing behind her hand as her face took on a thoughtful expression. "The something you'll never remember, is it something you would still want? Even though you haven't had it?" Jo nodded, her fingers tapping along the arm of the chair. "I believe both are equally terrible, and not so very different. In either situation, you're yearning for that something you don't have. You're missing something, regardless of whether or not you remember it." Jo nodded again, her eyes drifting towards the painting of heather as she thought about Beth's answer. "May I ask what inspired that question?"

"Harry, of course. I disagree, by the way. I believe losing something you'll never remember is much worse. At least, in the other scenario, you have memories. You have experiences and proof it existed."

"Is this about Harry losing his parents?" Jo didn't respond, but she really didn't have to. "Is the other scenario about you, then? You losing your-"

"Yes." Jo caught herself from snarling, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. "To both. Yes, to both. He found out. About my family, and…well, he was upset. I'm still not sure exactly why, but he was upset. I thought, perhaps, it was because I…." She trailed off, releasing a harsh breath through her nose.

"You thought he was upset that you had a family you could remember?" And for the first time since their initial meeting, Beth witnessed a tear collect in the corner of Jo's eye. "Oh, Josephine. Would you like to know what I think? I think he was upset you hadn't told him. That you didn't trust him to understand something he completely does."

"It's not like that…he's fucking eight. _Eight_. He doesn't need my baggage or to be weighed down by _my_ problems. I'm supposed to be helping him. I'm the adult, that's my job." Jo was gesturing wildly, her voice raising into a cracking tone just short of yelling. Once again, Beth was witnessing a first. So far, Josephine had been very reserved, her face and expression barely shifting from neutral and voice always kept at a low rasp. "I should have told him. I _know_ , he's told me. How, though? How am I supposed to tell him about something I can barely stand thinking about without wanting-" The tears in her eyes finally fell, streaking down her cheeks. She gritted her teeth with an audible grind, glaring at the floor as she realized just what she was about to say. What she was about to reveal.

"Wanting to **what** , Josephine?" Beth didn't usually push, didn't try to force the dialogue, but sometimes it felt like a necessary step. And right now, it felt like they were just on the edge of something. Something Jo needed to push into the light.

"...join them. Without wanting to join my family." And with that, Jo decided that was enough sharing for one day. Wiping at her face angrily, she gave the therapist one final pathetic look before standing and leaving. The door closed behind her softly. She skipped out on scheduling the next appointment.

Merlin, she really wanted a drink.

* * *

Harry twisted and turned, tangling himself in his sheets. Huffing, he just threw them off, which Taffy groaned at him about when they fell over her. Guilty, a feeling he was becoming rather accustomed to it seems, he uncovered her head and gave her a small pat. She gave him a sleepy look, those deep brown eyes filled with obvious adoration. Well, at least someone had forgiven him.

Jo hadn't been home when he returned from school today. In fact, she still hadn't returned when he'd gone to bed an hour ago. He had been hoping to talk to her today, to truly apologize for what he had done. He still wasn't sure why he had done it. It had been selfish and, well, _mean_. He wasn't sure a simple sorry would be enough to make Jo see how much he regretted it.

"Hey, you awake?"

Jumping, Harry stared at his doorway in surprise when Jo peeked her head in. She offered that little smile of hers, eyes crinkling just a smidge when she saw him staring back at her. "Mind if I come in?" Wordlessly, he shook his head, scooting over when she came around to sit beside him. A wooden box was in her hands, intricately carved letters on the lid. 'O'Kane', it read.

Neither of them spoke right away. They both just stared at the box in her lap, Jo's fingers running gently over the letters. "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "For losing my temper and saying such terrible things. I was a bit overwhelmed by it all, but it doesn't excuse me taking it out on you."

"I'm sorry for doing it. I-I shouldn't have tried to make you tell me." He looked downright miserable, eyes downcast and lower lip popped out with a tremble. She really couldn't stay mad. Well, she really hadn't been angry since that night. The next morning she had felt ridiculously guilty for how she had spoken to him. "S'alright. I told you, way back when, we'll make mistakes. Every family has bad moments."

Relief and warmth instantly filled him. Jo still referred to them as family, and, at the root of all his guilt and shame, he had truly been worried that he had crossed the line. That Jo would rather him leave than cause her pain again. "I'm still really sorry. I was being selfish."

"Yeah, you were a bit," Jo sighed, reaching out an brushing his hair back. It grew so fast. "But so was I. You'd asked me, back then, to tell you things. So you could understand, and I never did. Not really. I think, now, you probably understand a lot more of why I became such a mess." Well, she is still a mess, but at least she's a sober mess. One step at a time, it seems. "Anyways, I thought over it the last couple nights. Plus, I was given some pretty solid advice from both my Therapist and the group today, and I was thinking maybe I should tell you. Not everything, y'know, because you're eight. Even so, I think I've been a bit insulting towards you and how much you'll truly understand."

So, without further ado, Jo set the box between them, and removed the lid. "O'Kane, by the way, was my husband's last name. Cole O'Kane, and this," she lifted the first photograph out of the box. It was a still picture of a coal haired young man, herself and her baby girl standing on a pier overlooking the ocean. There was an old gentleman with a bowler hat and salt and pepper mustache behind the camera, smiling happily at their request of a photo.

"This is my Lucy."

Her voice cracked, throat already clogging as she whispered names that hadn't left her mouth in nearly a decade. She took in a deep breath, reminding herself that she was not to cry. She was not to be sad sharing her happiest moments from that time with Harry. Finally, her eyes dry and throat clear, she began an edited and happier version of her tale of young love and her beautiful yet unexpected baby girl.

For the next hour, she and Harry sifted through the pictures and odd trinkets in the box. Harry learned that Jo had met Cole, a muggle soldier, on that very pier when she was fifteen. When she was seventeen, she'd had Lucy, and she and Cole had gotten married. They'd had an apartment, above a shop in Diagon Alley (the wizarding alley in london). He had asked how Cole was allowed in. She just tapped her nose with a wink, telling him it was a family secret for when he was older. They did not discuss how or when or even the fact that Cole and Lucy died. Harry was grateful for that. He fell asleep that night, imagining a happy young family celebrating first steps and birthdays, a wedding with a fussy infant, and his pregnant mother, frazzled beyond belief after babysitting the very mobile one year old for 'practice'.


	18. Chapter 18 Taboo

**Hey guys, so it's been a while. My apologies on that, I just got super busy with the holidays and what not. Then, y'know, good ol' fashioned writer's block just kept creeping on in. Here we are, though, Chapter 18!**

 **As always, I greatly appreciate all the support; follows, favorites, reviews. Simply puts me over the moon.**

 **Hope you enjoy**

 **~Ghostdoor**

* * *

 **"There's just something obvious about emptiness, even when you try to convince yourself otherwise."-Sarah Dessen, _Lock and_** ** _Key_**

* * *

 **May 1989**

"You did _not_."

Katherine looked horribly torn between having an aneurysm or slapping Jo silly with the nearest book. The ash haired witch could only offer a sheepish smile, shrugging as she held up the little vial for all to view. The liquid inside sloshed as she took a step closer to the diagram drawn along her study floor. The other two Hufflepuffs in the room both grimaced as the candlelight caught the sickly deep red within the glass. Across from Jo, Andromeda looked rather impressed by it all.

Tonight's proceedings hung greatly upon the contents of this little bottle.

Petunia Dursley's blood.

* * *

 **March 1989**

The month of February passed by Harry and Jo without much fanfare. Their days were filled with school, appointments, dinner with Poppy, practicing flying; the usual monotonous day-to-day. Some days they would meet up with the Schott family, Liam and Becca always attached to Harry while Madison clung to Jo. The weekends always being a mystery of where they would end up. Poppy was just pleased with her Mistress and Young Master having spent the last month mostly happy and content, plus all the small children to watch and care for on a weekly basis. Overall, it was a nice, peaceful, and normal month, and it had been welcomed with open arms by the weary family.

Jo and Harry had also come to a new step in their relationship, an openness between the two and a strengthened connection through their understanding of one another. No matter how much she wished it wasn't so, Harry very much understood and empathized with her past tragedies. With these revelations, Harry had also come to recognize exactly how much Jo understood of his own feelings. She could give the proper names to his emotions, read his thoughts like an open book, and offer her firm and gentle comfort. This new found stage of recognition found the two in extremely honest and oftentimes painful conversations. Jo had to remind herself, many times, that Harry was still a child and attempted avoiding the heavy and dark these conversations tended to veer towards.

After a rather difficult discussion, which Harry had unknowingly initiated when asking about Cole's life before learning of magic, Jo had decided it was time to put these talks on pause. Or, at the very least, draw clear boundaries on what could and could not be discussed. Harry had been hurt, expecting Jo would keep her past an open book to him, but after some midnight coco with Poppy, during which she explained that the ash haired witch had many painful memories she herself still needed to come to terms with; he came to accept that some things were too difficult for Jo to talk about. Just as his time with the Dursleys was still treated as an open wound he avoided poking most days.

Jo, through vigorous practice, while Harry was at school or after he had gone to bed, was finally able to achieve most second year spells without much struggle. Healers Nyaga and Wolff were impressed with the progress, but Healer Nyaga, always the voice of reason, warned her to keep from exerting herself too often. Damaging an already weak magical core could undo these exhaustive past weeks of exercise and practice. Poppy, a much more aggressive voice of reason, kept a strict timetable after finding Jo knocked out cold after a rather explosive disaster of a protego. Said timetable, a rather annoying invention of her late father, was an old muggle alarm clock that would follow her around, ringing and jangling, until her wands were properly stowed away. It also had the horrible tendency of smashing its face into her own if she ignored it any longer than ten minutes. On paper, Josephine was absolutely making splendid progress, but she felt stifled and restricted. She was confident that if they would just give her _space,_ she could be much farther along.

Harry's grades were the highest he had ever achieved, and he and Abigail were excited by the prospect of sharing the same class in the following year. However, something he had yet to confide in either Jo or Poppy, he and Abigail had found themselves the newest interest of an older boy by the name of Alexander Jones. He was only a year, possibly two, older than them, but he had the build of a future footballer and a smirk that promised pain whenever he caught sight of the two. They had taken to avoiding him, ducking and weaving between taller classmates in the schoolyard. Some days, they even took the long way around.

One day at lunch, Abigail whispered that he had been round her house, asking her sisters if she was home. The next morning, the Moss family woke to find their house egged and the shattered glass of the garage door window. The older boy avoided them like the plague afterwards, obviously worried about repercussions. Harry suspected the boy had probably tried to find his own home, but had either failed or ran out of eggs. Once again, he found himself promising Abigail not to tell Jo, unless Alexander Jones did something else. So far, all had been quiet on the bullying front, but Harry knew these types of people better than Abigail and quiet just meant trouble. He just couldn't figure out why the boy had become so interested in the two of them.

* * *

Today, March first, found the two humans of the house in contradicting states of apprehension. Jo, in all of her infinite adult wisdom and mature problem solving, had simply avoided ever writing Mrs. Weasley about scheduling that 'play-date'. However, something she had failed to realize was the impending birthday celebration of one Ronald Weasley. Poppy had handed over the invitation about two weeks ago, and she'd been stuck once Harry had learned of it. He'd gone on and on about it, excitedly trying to pick the best birthday present 'Ever!'. He'd even gone so far as to mark it in a calendar. So, she'd have to do it, even if the thought made her stomach clench in deeply uncomfortable apprehension . She'd sent an RSVP, endured nearly two weeks of back and forth conversation that bordered on tangibly awkward, and now… simply put, she would have to show her face (probably awkwardly hide in the bathroom again) and hope to Merlin, Harry has a better experience this time around.

"Mistress has the treats? Poppy made many this time, just in case." Poppy fluttered around them again, fixing Harry's jacket collar and smoothing his fringe, before they stepped through the floo.

"Yes, Poppy. We have them all." Jo hefted the three bulging covered trays in her arms, peeking around the side to glare down at the elf. "I'm sure Molly will be ever so grateful for all the sugar we're bringing into her house full of children." The elf just 'tsked', opting to ignore her and instead pepper Harry with her kind inquiries.

"Young Harry be excited, yes? Poppy be sure Young Weasley be happy you's come. Next time, we invite little Weasleys to the house. Have a sleepy party!" Poppy had, for the better part of the two weeks, taken to reading more home-making magazines about children and 'friendship activities'. She was very keen on hosting a 'sleepy party' for Harry and his growing group of magical friends. "Make Mistress ask the Lady Weasley, the grownups can plan a date."

"Alright, Poppy. I'll ask," Harry agreed, smiling crookedly. Poppy wasn't the only one keen on Harry making magical friends. He liked Ron, the boy had been rather funny and nice to Harry at Madison's birthday party. He had been hoping to see the boy again, even his older twin brothers. Fred and George had seemed more fond of him after he and Ron had snatched the tray of goodies. Plus, after their descriptions of The Burrow, he was rather excited to finally see it.

"Alright, let's get going, kid. Don't want to show up too late," Jo mumbled, glancing at the clock above the mantle. They were already ten minutes past the time they were supposed to arrive. Any later, and Jo worried they would attract a lot of stares. "Into the fireplace. You remember what to do?"

Harry nodded, grabbing a fistful of floo powder from the jar and stepping into the fireplace. "The Burrow!" Then, they were gone, twisting and turning past hundreds of grates in a flash of swirling green fire.

Molly Weasley looked up in time to watch as Harry and Jo fell in through the fireplace. They both coughed and sputtered as soot exploded around them in a cloud. "Oh dear, oh do come in. I'm so sorry, I thought I'd gotten rid of the trap…let me just…" With a wave, the two could finally see and breathe as the soot cloud vanished. "Oh, those boys are rotten. Hello Josephine, Dear, how are you? Oh, are those for us?"

Still a bit disoriented, the two let Mrs. Weasley guide them toward the kitchen table and relieve their arms of snack trays and a gift. She bustled around them, vanishing any remaining soot from their hair and clothes, mumbling under her breath about 'they'll be the death of me…told them to get rid of it all…even had Arthur check!'. "There," she declared, finally stopping directly in front of the two with an inspecting eye. "I think that's all of it. I am so sorry, Fred and George went and booby-trapped the whole house! Arthur and I spent the all night checking every nook and cranny, but it seems we missed one."

"Or they snuck it back." The youngest, Ginny, added as she marched through the kitchen and up the stairs.

Molly just nodded, making a face that said the idea was more than likely spot on. "Yes, there's also that. Oh, Harry dear, the boys are just out back if you wanted to join them. Probably playing quidditch." Harry didn't stick around after hearing that, nearly catching his toe on the door frame on his way out. Molly shook her head fondly. "Boys and quidditch, you can never go wrong. Take a seat, Josephine. I just started tea."

With nothing else to do and no one else to distract the hostess, Jo took a seat at the table. "It's really only the family. Of course, the Schott's will be along shortly, I'm sure. We haven't many families with children Ron's age. Meeting you and Harry gave him some hope on having a friend once he goes to Hogwarts. I'm hoping they'll still get on. Children are so fickle with these things. Why Ginny and little Madison have at least one screaming match when they're together." Jo could only stare as Molly continued talking, a story about Ginny and Madison blowing up a rather old Prewett wardrobe in a particularly disagreeable moment about a chocolate frog card. It seems she wasn't particularly necessary for a conversation with Molly. And _that_ was perfectly agreeable with Jo.

"And what are you doing now? Arthur and I were in Diagon Alley just the other week, had to buy Charlie a replacement set of Potion supplies. He's been rather bad with them this year. Anyways, we walked past the old shop, and seeing as we had just seen you, were curious about if…." She stared at Jo with bright eyes, leaving the question hanging between them with an inquisitive little twist of her lip.

"Oh…ehm…I haven't really…thought about it?" The ash haired witch gave an awkward shrug, trying for some form of smile. "I've been focusing more on the whole recovering from my accident and sorting out Harry stuff. I haven't…ehm…yeah. Haven't thought about it."

"Well, that's alright, dearie. Don't mind me, I'm just being nebby. I would imagine everything else takes higher priority to a shop that hasn't been open for almost ten years." The kettle began to whistle. Jo breathed a sigh of relief when Molly turned to summon it and the tea cups. "Sugar?"

Once they were settled with their tea and, of course, Molly's freshly made biscuits,they each sat in silence. Jo looked around curiously as Molly began fiddling with the pages of a clearly read Daily Prophet. The silence was decidedly uncomfortable, even for the self-proclaimed recluse. "Is that a tracker clock?"

"Oh yes. A lovely wedding present that. It's certainly earned its keep with seven children." The two witches shared a polite chuckle. "I am very grateful you came today, Josephine. I imagine it's difficult, seeing all of us again."

Jo stared into her tea, watching from the corner of her eye as Molly fiddled with the Prophet once again. "It's…it is difficult," she said after a moment. Chancing another glance at the redhead, she found Molly watching her keenly, her expression open and patient. "…but also, a relief, I suppose. It's hard to describe. It's overwhelming, after so long. But…seeing everyone again is a good reminder that we did come out on the other side. That there are still people I care about, that I should still be seeing and talking to. That was the point of it all, wasn't it? To have today and tomorrow." Coughing, Jo turned away to stare at the multiple photographs and knick knacks along the walls once more.

Molly had a bit of a frog in her throat, but she smiled. What else was there to do? It was painful and terrible remembering all they had lost, the consuming sadness of that time, but Josephine was right. Wasn't it all for today? To have a birthday party in her home, the boys playing without a care in the garden, as she and a friend share a cup of tea without the worries of Death Eaters and Dark Lords. "Did you know, Bill and Charlie still remember you? They've asked after you here and there. Especially when one of them has to dust the pictures or when we're reminiscing. They remember you and Katherine teaching them how to play exploding snap, and reading them those adventure tales. They even remember the night you…oh, they remember a lot more than I thought they would."

Her lips twisted up at the thought of the two, Jo had a few fond memories of them as well. "Those two were such pleasant boys, too. At least for Katie and me," she amended at the doubtful expression Molly had taken. "I think Bill was quite taken by Katie." They shared another chuckle. The eldest Weasley had been Katie's glorified shadow, always saving a seat next to him for dinner, and begging her not to leave until he'd gone to bed. Absolutely smitten.

"And Charlie with you. Especially when you brought him that little dragon statue for his birthday. Merlin, you might have been the first love of his life!"

"Who was the love of Charlie's life?! Charlie **promised** he was going to marry me!" Madison Schott had arrived, arms laden with dollies and an expression of the utmost offense. "Oh, Auntie Jo! I didn't know you were already here. Mum and Dad are coming through with Becca and Liam. Is Harry here? I know they were asking about him. I'm going to play with Ginny. The boys never want us to play with them. It always makes Ginny mad, but I don't mind. I don't really like chasing gnomes or quidditch."

When she finally paused to breathe, Jo jumped in quickly. "Hey, kid. Harry's here, of course. Already outside with the birthday boy. I believe Ginny's just gone upstairs."

"Probably in her room, Dear. I know she was happy to hear you would be along. Go on then, we'll call you two when it's time for dinner." Madison nodded along happily, dropping into Jo's side for a quick hug before zipping up the stairs with a cry of 'Ginny!'. "Well, she seems rather fond of you."

Jo just shrugged, smirking a bit after the girl. "Godmother magic, I s'pose."

* * *

"OUCH!"

The older twins snickered, one of them kicking the gnome away from Harry's abused finger. "We told you-"

"Be careful of the teeth-"

"Nasty buggers-"

"Nasty bite!"

The two cackled again, George picking up another ugly little gnome by the ankle. "Go on then, Harry. Give this one a go." Hesitantly, his finger still stinging in warning, Harry took the proffered creature by the other ankle. With a couple swings, and a count of three, Harry and George lobbed the squealing gnome high into the air. It landed with a colorful curse, disoriented and discombobulated, in a mound of fresh dirt halfway across the neighboring field. "Cor, that's gotta be a new record!" The twins high-fived, even offering two for Harry before scurrying after another garden gnome.

"Blimey, I've never seen one go that far!" Ron shielded his eyes, staring after the freshly tossed gnome as it tried to right itself up from down. "Good toss, mate." Harry ruffled his hair, feeling a tad guilty for the rough treatment. He couldn't help the slight puff to his chest, though, glad to be part of the fun with the other boys.

Ron, obviously growing bored of gnome tossing, motioned for Harry to walk along with him. They started talking, asking the usual questions: "What d'you like to do? Do you like quidditch? What house do you want to be in at Hogwarts? Have you done any magic?"

Somehow, they quickly latched onto the subject that Harry, for the most part, did generally muggle things. What's muggle school like? They make you _run_ for a grade?! What's a calalator? Well, what do you and your muggle friends do? Comic books? What's a hacky sack?

When Liam and Becca had found their way to the two boys, it was just in time to watch as Ron finally managed to successfully kick the little cloth ball back to Harry. The small volley was instantly disrupted by his cheering and pride in his accomplishment. Harry laughed, keeping the hackey sack up in the air between his two feet. "Hewy!" He kicked the little sack one final time, catching it in his hand as Liam latched himself onto his knees. "Hullo, Liam. Becca." He nodded to the children. "Did you just arrive?"

"Yeah, Mummy and Daddy are in the house with Mrs. Weasley and Jo." Becca huffed out, struggling to undo the braids her hair had been forced into. "Maddie's with Ginny, but we wanted to come play with you and Won. What are you two playing?"

The boys and Becca played hackey sack, Becca surprisingly catching on just as fast as Ron, if not faster. Liam payed them little attention as he dug dirt with a little construction truck. This went on for some time before the twins suddenly appeared. They happily suggested a bout of quidditch, naming Becca the referee seeing as she had zero practice on a broom. Liam desperately wanted to join in the flying, so the four older boys took turns flying with him while the other three scrimmaged. William Schott had come outside as well, watching from beneath a tree with Becca chatting happily as she called out made up rules. After some time, Katherine and Jo appeared in the doorway to announce dinner was ready. Sweaty and dirty, the boys all piled beside a hose to rinse off their hands and faces before rushing the house with rumbling tummies.

All of the children sat at one end of the table, Katherine and Jo in the center across from one another which gave way to the adult section. The table was full of loud chatter, food theft, and half-hearted admonishment from the adults. It was a cheerful atmosphere overall. Jo watched fondly as Harry and Ron muttered and whispered to one another, obviously becoming quick friends. She was glad, at least he'd know someone when they went off to Hogwarts. Minus some awkward moments and uncomfortable silences with Molly Weasley, this had been a rather enjoyable experience for the ash-haired witch, and she was glad Harry could have this. However, something in her gut just wouldn't give, constantly poking and prodding underneath it all. Something felt _off_ , she just didn't know what or why.

Finally, the cake was brought out, Happy Birthday was sung, and candles were blown out to cheers. Ron unwrapped his few presents, seeming happy with the his lot. His parents had given him chess set, the Schott's had given him a small set of quidditch figures that came inside a small stadium, and from Harry, an entire box of chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, and an obnoxious mixture of muggle candies Ron had never seen before. The only gift he seemed, well, _repulsed_ by would be the charmed toy spiders his twin brothers had given him. The poor boy had shrieked and gone terribly pale, throwing the whole box away from him. Which had turned into the three girls shrieking as little crawling spiders fell all over their heads.

After the commotion had died down, cake was served and the adults turned to sipping tea and chatting quietly. William and Katie had just began sharing a story about Liam accidentally setting fire to their table cloth when Arthur Weasley came through the door. "Hullo dear, everyone- And Happy Birthday, Ron!" He stopped behind his youngest boy, giving the birthday boy's shoulders a squeeze. He gave his youngest son a sly wink and with a rather impressive, if he does say so himself, sleight of hand, slipped him a small box beneath the table. Feeling terribly guilty for missing the entire party, he had stopped and grabbed just something little as an extra Happy Birthday. However, when settling his eyes on Ron's newest friend, Arthur froze for a moment, his mouth hanging in an almost perfect 'oh' as his eyebrows crinkled together.

"As I live and breathe…." Everyone at the table instantly quieted and turned their attention to the Weasley patriarch, the adults wide-eyed and the children confused. _Oh, cock_ , Jo thought as she hastily tried to rise from the table and put a halt to what was about to happen.

"Arthur wai-"

"Harry Potter!" He descended on Harry, smiling and cheerful, completely ignorant to the chaos he had just unleashed on the poor boy. A chorus of confused "Harry Potter?!" rose from the children as Mr. Weasley reverently shook a shocked and bewildered Harry's hand. "Molly told me you had been at little Madison's birthday party, and I just couldn't believe I had missed you! It is so wonderful to see you boy. Oh, bless, look how big you've gotten. I've heard you've been living in the muggle world, is that right?"

Harry didn't even get a chance to answer. Ron and the twins were excitedly talking over one another, at each other, at their parents; Madison looked extremely put out, and Ginny had gone wide-eyed just mouthing something incomprehensible as her face turned pale. And Molly? Molly looked ready to burn her husband to a crisp with her glare alone. She had gone red in the face, and her hair had begun to frizzle and puff like an angry cat. "THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Silence instantly descended over the kitchen. Jo took the opportunity to finally reach Harry, placing her hand on his shoulder with a sharp exhale through her nose. The poor kid looked up at her with such confused and scared eyes, she wished greatly that she could just apparate them right now. He had no idea what was happening, and she was a bloody moron for not foreseeing this and warning him. _This_ was the exact reason she hesitated in taking him anywhere near wizarding Britain.

"A-are you really Harry Potter?" Ron looked about ready to keel over, his eyes shining in wonder at the boy he had been playing with for nearly the whole day. He seemed so normal, actually rather mundane given how muggle his life was. How was this the hero Harry Potter?

"My name's Harry Potter, if that's what you're asking. I'm not really sure why that's so special…" He looked up at Jo again, searching for any answer to what was happening. Why did him being Harry Potter elicit such a response? They were all acting like he was famous!

"Cor, it's because-"

"FRED!" Molly swatted the table, but it seems even her wrath wasn't going to stop this from unraveling.

"-You're the savior," George finished, unabashed and unafraid of his mother's ire.

"...The savior of what?" He didn't ask this of anyone else at the table. He looked squarely up at Jo, eyes still wide and scared and confused.

Jo could only sigh. "The wizarding world of Britain."

The night quickly took a turn then. The children were truly wound up now, repeatedly interrupting the adults as they tried to calmly explain to Harry who exactly he was to their people. Jo let the others take the lead on this, seeing as they actually knew what the general public said and thought of Harry Potter. She would inject her own knowledge or opinions on it quietly. Harry had gone pale, pink, and back to pale again. The fact that there were children's books about him was news to both the boy and Jo, and that each of the Weasley children at the table had heard them? Well, it made Harry feel extremely awkward now that they were all staring at him as if he had just flown to the moon and back.

"But…I'm just Harry." He looked sadly around him, gratified to see the other children looking at least slightly guilty by the way they had acted.

"And that's all you're expected to be, kid." The other adults mirrored Jo's sentiment. "I didn't quite realize your name had grown so much, but how other people see you doesn't change who you are. You're an eight year old kid that's much more than the stories and fanfare people created, and the people who truly care about you, know you're more than that." She settled the other children with a stern look as she spoke those last words. They all looked equally abashed, the Weasley boys' ears turning red as they looked towards the table. The only one not in the least bit guilty looking was Madison, who had her eyes set on Harry with a frown.

"Well, just so you know," the oldest Schott girl began, her tone in an interesting blend of haughty and comforting. "I don't like you any better just because you're Harry Potter. I still think you're too quiet and don't know how to play any fun games." Katherine and William both began scolding her instantly, faces horrified, but everyone stopped once again. Harry had started laughing, truly deep down belly-laughing. Soon, Jo chuckled along as well as Molly Weasley, who mouthed the word 'fickle' at her between her chuckles.

"Thanks, Madison. I don't like you any better either," Harry finally managed, still laughing slightly, but giving the girl an appreciative smile. She beamed back at him before sniffing slightly and starting back in on her previously forgotten slice of cake. The tension instantly clearing away, Ron Weasley decided it was time for his apology.

"Ah, she's right. 'm sorry, Harry. Doesn't really matter what your name is, so long as you'll still come over and play quidditch with us." Ron nudged Harry slightly, offering a sheepish smile.

"I'll see if I can pencil you in," Harry quipped back, smiling brightly with a return nudge. "Seems like you'll need me though, if you ever want to beat those two. They're scary with those bats."

With her gut _finally_ uncoiling, Jo felt herself truly begin to relax and enjoy the little birthday party. She should have known better, really. The Weasleys' were good people, of course they'd have decent enough children. Seeing that everything had settled, she left the boys to talk of quidditch and gnome tossing to rejoin the adults. The table instantly returned to its previous state of chatter and laughter, the adults watching closely as the children turned back into normal kids and ran off to play. Fred and George disappeared upstairs with mischevious smiles, Becca and Liam ran after Harry and Ron back outside, and Ginny and Madison took to the living room.

Thankfully, over the following months (years really, but that's jumping ahead of ourselves), Ron and Harry became good friends, and the 'Potter' business was left generally alone. Poppy got her wish, many times over in those following weeks, and Ron came to stay just as often as Harry went to the Burrow. Ginny though, Jo noticed, became a rather silent ghost who would disappear at the sight of Harry. However, if he even noticed, Harry never seemed bothered by it.

Also, pleasantly enough, Jo and Molly started to lose most of their awkward and uncomfortable silences, and a friendship truly began to grow between the two women. However, the bridge between them was still new, easy to be washed away in storms, and there was a storm coming. Jo just hadn't predicted its strength.

* * *

 **April-May 1989**

Jo warily watched as the regal Ministry owl approached, circling her once before landing along her outstretched arm. It offered one leg, a thick envelope stuck shut with the Ministry Of Magic's seal, tied securely around his ankle. Once she had detached the letter, the owl took to the skies in ever growing circles until it caught a strong gust. Her stomach clenched with nerves, her mind beginning to race as she contemplated the envelope's contents.

"What's that?" Harry's voice almost startled her, but she kept her face passive as she turned.

"My court date, I'd wager." Shrugging, she tried for an easy smile as they entered the muggle house. He looked worried, though. Ripping the envelope open, she read as they ascended the staircase. Harry tried to watch her face closely, but the only change in expression were her eyebrows raising slightly. Inside the Grand Hall, she paused, taking advantage of the bright light to better read the entire page.

"Well, what's it say?"

"June. The Fourth of June at eight in the morning." The rest of the letter only summarized the complaint brought against her. Dumbledore would be the 'plaintiff', accusing her of irresponsibly risking the welfare and overall safety of one Harry James Potter. Plus, a side charge of reckless magical use against muggles Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley. And the final charge? Threatening a professor of Hogwarts, one Severus Snape. It seems Dumbledore wasn't pulling any punches, thought Jo with a sigh. With a sharp exhale through her nose and slight roll of the neck, she began formulating her best points of defense.

She caught Harry's eye, though, realizing how worried he truly appeared as he stared up at her. Once again, she let a small smile pull at her lips, and pulled him into her side. "Don't worry, kid. I'm well versed in how to make a proper defense in front of the Wizengamot. Besides, we've got a couple months. That's plenty of time to get our ducks in a row." He didn't look reassured, but nodded and looked to the floor. Kneeling down, bringing herself eye to eye with him, she placed both of her hands on his shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Listen, Harry. I know this is scary and pretty damn overwhelming, I feel it too, trust me. But I'm making a promise to you right now. You will never be forced to leave here, ever. You're my family, and no room full of old stuffy twats are gonna tell us differently, right?"

"Right," he said softly, cracking a small unsure smile in return. "I just…" he shook his head slightly, scuffing his foot slightly against the floor and shrugging. "I don't understand why they're doing this. What's so bad about me living with you?"

Jo didn't really have an answer for that. She could rationalize Dumbledore's misgivings, of course. There were, in complete honesty, more than enough reasons for her to not be allowed guardianship. Especially of The Harry Potter. In her heart, though, there were no reasons strong enough to keep them apart. She's already made enough mistakes in their short time together, but choosing to let him stay? That wasn't one of them. It was, quite possibly, the only good decision she had made in the last ten years. "I don't have the answer, kid. I really don't know. What I do know is that we're gonna show them they're wrong. We're going to show them that we're family, and they can't change that."

Harry nodded, looking more confident in their position. His eyes had taken on that defiant glint, that headstrong Gryffindor look that both of his parents had shown on many occasions. "And if they take me, I'll just come back."

Chuckling, Jo ruffled his hair with an amused shake of her head. "Let's show them that they can't mess with our family."

* * *

From that day in April until nearly the end of May, Jo had her head stuck in a book and a quill in hand. There was a folder, growing slowly with each passing day, that she filled with her defense notes. After the first two weeks, she had realized she would need some outside help. Soon, Harry and Poppy found themselves eating dinner with the Schott children and, sometimes, Ted Tonks. Katie and Andromeda would take their dinners with Jo in the study, all three woman bent over old tomes and leaflets of parchment. There were many nights when the Schott children would stay the night, their mother passed out over a table in the study across from Jo, and Ted Tonks would carry his wife to the floo. Harry was reassured and much more confident in Jo while witnessing so much help from the two women.

However, on the Twenty-third of May, Harry and the Schott children were barred from the third floor and above with only Poppy to keep them company. Jo had called Katie, Andromeda, and Ted upstairs with her, giving Harry a nervous look as she told them all to behave.

"What's going on, Jo?" Katie questioned, watching as her clearly anxious friend paced in front of the study's doors. "Are we not taking notes, tonight?"

"Ehm, no. No, we're doing something else. Something I'll need to have to…well, I'll just show you." Opening the doors, the three couldn't help their shock at seeing the state of the room they had become so accustomed to.

Instead of long tables and comfortable couches, everything had been cleared out, leaving only the bookshelves against the walls. The rugs had even been rolled away, leaving what should have been a bare floor. However, in their place, a large and extremely intricate diagram had been created. It had seven points which contained a rune engraved fist-sized stone in each circle. "Oh Salazar," Andromeda murmured, the only one to fully enter the room aside from Jo. "That's an alchemic diagram…Josephine, that's _blood magic_."

"Right, yeah. So, I should probably explain."

"Yes, probably," Ted chuckled, but they could all see his discomfort. Katie just stared from the doorway, her expression stern as she waited.

"When McGonnagall was here, she told me something I'm sure Dumbledore didn't want getting out. Harry had been placed with Petunia for a reason," Jo began, slowly walking around the outline she had created. "When Lily Potter died, she had cast an old spell of protection on Harry, A Mother's spell. Dumbledore believes that Voldemort is still _alive_ in some way, that he will come back for Harry. This Mother's spell only works when Harry is under the protection of someone sharing the blood of Lily. Ergo, placing him with her only living relative, Petunia Dursley."

Pausing, she took a moment to look at the other three. Andromeda looked perfectly fine, already understanding of the procedure she was asking to have performed. Ted and Katie still looked apprehensive, but it was clear they understood exactly where she was going with this. With a shake of her head, Katie fully entered the room to properly examine the diagram. "So how will this give you the blood of Lily Potter?"

 _I should'nt have asked_ , Katie thought when her friend just pulled a vial of blood from her pocket with a cough. "You did not-"

"Oh, Josephine. I'm fairly certain that's illegal." Ted said, his voice raising slightly as he nervously glanced around as if the Auror force was about to pop out of the walls. "Isn't it?"

"Well, I did actually look for any law pertaining to coming into the possession of a muggle's blood, and as long as the blood isn't being used to hex, curse, ensnare or harm said muggle in anyway, as well as you having not murdered them, then it's perfectly legal to have someone's blood." Jo shrugged, and surprisingly- or unsurprisingly if you're Ted- Andromeda nodded along confidently. " _Anyways_ , moving on from the perfectly legally obtained blood in my hand, I actually need your help. Nothing much, or _illegal_ ," she shot Ted a pointed look who had gone rather pale by this point. "I just can't perform something this magically advanced. My core is still too weak. _However_ , I've been filling each of those rune stones with my own magical essence for the last few weeks. There should be enough of my own magic between them all, but-"

"You need us to activate the actual spell," Andromeda finished, bending over to inspect the entire diagram and nearest stone with an impressed interest. "This is very well done, well designed…you've done a lot of research here, I'm sure." Jo just shrugged, letting the older witch circle the diagram slowly to study each line and symbol.

"Hi, yes, for the two of us who are not versed in blood magic; exactly what in the name of Helga are we doing?!" Katie placed her hands on her hips, huffing slightly while Ted nodded beside her. "I understand that we're going to be mixing your blood with Evans', to give Harry back his mother's protection, but how? How are we doing all of this? Isn't this a bit…dark?"

"No. It's just magic, Katie. It's protective blood magic meant for family defense, there's nothing dark about that. All I need you three to do is say the spell, aim them at three of the stones, and that's that. My magic, stored in the stones, will power the diagram and spellwork." Stepping carefully across her diagram, she turned to face her friends once in the center. "I know blood magic is sketchy, a grey area at best, but I swear to you, I would never ask for your involvement unless absolutely necessary. You're not required to do anything other than activate the spell, think of it like those wire things for automobiles. Hop cords."

"Jump leads," Ted offered feebly, finally stepping closer to the diagram. Jo shot him a finger gun, nodding her head with a pleading smile. _This is insane,_ thought Katie with a sigh, shaking her head as she too closed the distance.

" _Fine_ ," the blonde huffed, taking her wand out. "What's the bloody spell, you pillock?" Jo's face instantly softened, gratitude clear in her eyes as the other two took positions. They each shared slightly worried expressions, stepping this way and that as Jo instructed them on exactly what to do and where to stand. They all knew they were toeing the line in helping Jo achieve something so extremely taboo.

"It's a bit of a mouthful, so I wrote it down. Take a minute to practice the enunciation while I set this last bit up." She waved her left wand, sending the three scraps of parchment floating to each of them. Once they started whispering the words, she crouched down and withdrew the vial from her pocket. A stone basin lay at her feet, smooth and pure white. Slowly, careful to not spill a single drop of blood, she emptied the vial. The deep red contrasted greatly with the white stone, and her reflection distorted and rippled darkly back at her. Merlin, she hopes this works.

"Alright, is everyone ready?" The three offered her nods, each reserved and rather stoic. Without further ado, she removed a small knife from her pocket and cut a small line into each palm. "Right. Start the spell, and don't forget to aim your magic at only one stone each. It cannot touch a single line or rune, only the stone."

Katie and Ted still looked pale, but they each nodded solemnly again, concentrating their wands on the stones before them. Andromeda began the chant, her voice even and low as she watched with barely contained curiosity. **"Tolle eam, et dimidium sanguinis mei. Disputatio corpore sanguis misericordia."** The other two joined, their voices creating an odd harmony that gave Jo chills. Blood magic was an old magic, and its conduction reverberated deeply within each of them as their stones began to glow. **"Tolle eam, et dimidium sanguinis mei. Disputatio corpore sanguis misericordia."**

They continued to chant the spell until the diagram began to glow, releasing Jo's stored yellow magic from within. The glow quickly spread, running along the most outer lines, connecting each stone before moving in. Each level of runes and lines began to light up, closing in on Jo and the blood quickly. The three outside the diagram had to shield their eyes once it reached the center, a dazzling bright light exploding around their friend before dimming slowly. Once the light had gone, slowly disappearing from each line back out, they could clearly see Jo still standing perfectly fine in the center. She gave them a weak smile, holding up her perfectly healed hands. The basin laid at her feet completely empty and still a pristine white.

Andromeda watched warily as the witch took a hesitant step from the center. "So far, so good," Jo mumbled, carefully walking over the lines. However, once outside of the final ring, she swayed dangerously before collapsing in a heap. Ted being the closest, rushed to her side, the other two running around the diagram to join them. Ted quickly deferred to Andromeda, seeing as she was the only one of them with any type of healer training. She worked quickly, her wand flashing with quick diagnostic spells while her fingers felt for a pulse. "She's just unconscious…yes, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong."

"Are you sure? It's not her core again is it?" Katherine worriedly brushed the hair from Jo's face. She wasn't sure she could handle another incident like last time. Nearly losing Jo once was one time too many already.

"Yes, I'm sure. Blood magic is very taxing. I'll stay with her tonight, just to make sure, but I'm confident all she needs is some rest and time for the magic to properly settle." The two hufflepuffs let out a breath of relief, taking a moment to just sit and process exactly what they had just done. What Jo had just done.

"There's absolutely no way we can let Harry see her like this," Katie said after a moment, her hands in need of something to do sought out Jo's hair once again to brush through it. "We should have Poppy move her." The others agreed easily. Once they had summoned Poppy, moved Jo to her bed, and reassured the house elf countless times that Jo would be alright; the three began discussing exactly what they had participated in tonight.

"Go on then, Andy. You obviously know more than either of us. Tell us what we just did," Ted quietly urged, giving his wife's hand a slight squeeze.

"Well," she started, equally quiet with a little smirk. "I can already tell your poor hufflepuff hearts are greatly worried, but it's unnecessary. Jo was being honest when she said the spell was in no way dark. It would have been a perfectly accepted ceremony not that terribly long ago. Many wizarding families would have done something similar, if not the same, for a marriage or adoption. The spell was for the magic to literally add the Evans' bloodline into the Delacroix's. In this case, it was to extend an already in place spell of protection, to ensure it will remain. However, in the old days, it would have merely been an act of acceptance for whomever was joining a bloodline, a promise that they would be protected and cherished by the main family."

Jo mumbled something, creating a pause in the conversation as she shifted slightly and fell silent. "I'm just worried about her." Katherine found herself loosely braiding Jo's hair. Merlin, it's grown so long now. She could remember braiding it, just like this, when they had been teenagers in the dorm room. "Just collapsing like that? I thought I was going to have a bloody heart attack."

"This is natural. Blood magic, as I said, is very taxing. Her body is settling the new magically infused blood. Having her sleep through it is the easiest method for her body to accommodate faster." Honestly, Andromeda was rather impressed. The rune work, the diagram; it had all been very precise, and the detail had to have taken Josephine hours to prepare. She supposed having so much history at the ready might be one of the Delacroix's greatest boons. The Blacks were an old family, possibly one of the oldest in Britain, but the Delacroix? If their society had instated a royal line, it would have been this family. They were the backbone, the brick layers and architects of the very society that still thrived today.

The pureblood in her was saddened by how much the family had fallen since the war. Josephine was the only member of the Head branch that still remained, and even with their little performance tonight, Harry could never take on that title. He would always be a Potter, and that was his place. Besides, the Delacroix family had always been matriarchal, only a woman could hold the title as Head of the family. It was a shame Josephine still hasn't taken up the mantle.

Glancing around at her husband and Katherine, Andromeda recognized the clear signs of exhaustion and worry in both of their faces. "Go on to bed, both of you. I can handle sitting here with Josephine." They both opened their mouths, ready to argue, but she cut them off easily. "I assure you, nothing will happen. _But-"_ they both snapped their opening mouths shut again, shrinking ever so slightly under the Black glare. "I will retrieve both of you if anything concerning does happen."

Accepting they weren't winning this round, Ted dropped a kiss to her cheek. "Goodnight, love. Get some rest yourself." Smiling lightly, she gave him a nod and watched as he motioned Katherine from the room as well. Now, if only she could shoo Josephine's dogs away just as easily. A spotted terrier had taken residence right at her feet, its little nub of a tail wiggling to ferociously she was surprised its entire body wasn't vibrating. With a sigh, Ted would have described it as suffering, she gave it a scratch behind the ear.

* * *

There was only one major drawback to the spell Jo had conducted, she had absolutely no way of knowing if it had worked. Well, there was one way, but she'd rather not have Voldemort attempting to murder her boy just to find out. When she had awakened the following morning, barring a slight all over ache, there had been no discernible difference that she could take note of. All she could do was hope.

Harry and the other children had been ever so curious as to what exactly the adults had done that night. They're questions had been fielded expertly by both Ted and Katie, though. However, curious children denied answers tended to cultivate sneakier tactics. Or at least, that was the conclusion Jo had come to when, about a week later, she found them slinking around the third floor, noses in books and hands in drawers they had no reason to be touching.

"Well, at the very least, I can be fairly certain in wagering none of you would ever make a decent Slytherin." Cocking her head slightly, she kept her face as stoic as possible as Harry and Madison jumped in shock. They each turned guilty faces up at her, flinching slightly when Becca managed to knock an entire stack of very old tomes off of a table. Liam, the little glutton, was too distracted by a bowl of cereal and his toy trucks to really bother with any of the drama. Rolling her eyes, she finally let a smirk pull at her lips as she nodded them out of the library. "Come on, before I decide to cancel our trip to the ice cream shop."

Unfortunately for the Schott's, the day after Jo's blood ritual, William's mother had taken a truly terrible turn for the worse. Unwilling to let her children watch their grandmother fade from this world, Katherine had asked Jo to keep them until it was all over. She had readily agreed, how could she say no after everything her friend had done for her, especially in the past year? Surprisingly, William had readily agreed to his children staying under her care, and even _thanked her_ for the help.

Seating herself on the only unoccupied bench, Jo watched as the children ran around the park. Her chocolate ice cream had started to melt down the cone, covering her fingers in the sticky liquid. Cursing quietly, she licked it away, which turned into a rather obnoxious race to finish the treat before it spilled all over her and the bench. A few of the other mothers wrinkled their noses at the display. Sighing, she decided it was time to just give up on it and chucked it into the nearest bin. Sweeping her eyes across the park, her heart came to a pounding stutter when she couldn't see any of the children.

Panic seized her then, a bone chilling fear striking though her entire body as she leaped up and ran across the park. "Harry! Madison!" There was no reply. Her eyes jumped from each child on the jungle gym then to the swings, the slides, the teeter-totter, but none of the faces were the children she needed to see. "Becca! Liam!"

The other mothers, the ones who had wrinkled their noses at her, had suddenly jumped up. They were each looking around the park, obviously catching onto her panic. "Miss! Miss!," one of the older women called her, waving her towards the other side of the park. "Are those your children?!"

Sprinting, heart in her throat, she tore across the park. There, just sitting beneath a tree, sat all four of them. They looked up in surprise, smiling and clearly unhurt, when she nearly dove to the ground beside them. "Looky, Auntie Jo! It's a kitty!" Becca, smiling brightly, lifted her hands to reveal a small black puffball with green eyes.

"Oh, Merlin," Jo wheezed, clutching her chest to keep her heart from literally drilling its way out. "I thought I damn well lost you. Oh, Merlin." She just shook her head before locking Harry and Madison with the sternest look she could muster as she huffed and wheezed like the dying old lady she had become. _Thank Hega_ , she was just so relieved they were alright. "You can't just go off like that. You two are old enough to know better! Merlin's tit, I was worried sick when I couldn't find any of you."

"I'm sorry, Jo," Harry mumbled, his cheeks turning pink. "We didn't realize you couldn't see us."

"Sorry, Auntie Jo," Madison whispered, her own head ducked slightly.

Satisfied that they realized what they did wrong, Jo offered them both a little smile. "Eh, s'alright." Reaching out to ruffle both of their heads, she settled down on the ground beside them. Opening her arms, she happily accepted Liam onto her lap before setting her eyes on the little ball of fluff Becca was still cooing over. "Oh go on then, show me the little devil."

"He is not a devil," Becca shot back instantly, her eyes nearly shining in adoration as she picked the poor thing up to show off. "I'm calling him Pebble! Can we take him home? Pleeeaaase?"

"No. Absolutely not. The dogs would tear the poor thing to bits."

* * *

"This is Pebbles," Jo stated evenly, holding the little fluff up for each of the dogs to see. "Don't eat him." Her eyebrow twitched when they all just licked the poor thing's face, tails wagging and clearly happy with their newest friend. Harry, the cheeky boy, raised his eyebrows and _smirked_ at her when the kitten merely purred.

* * *

"Harry." The whisper in the dark wasn't what woke the quietly snoring boy. No, it was Madison, annoyed by his lack of response, flicking him repeatedly in the nose until he woke with stinging eyes. "Oh, good, you're awake."

A large yawn tore its way from his throat as he rubbed his abused nose, glaring slightly at the girl. She settled herself on his bed, sitting criss-cross applesauce and facing him. She was clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest, her big blue eyes wide as she watched him pull himself into a sitting position. "What, Madison?"

"I think my Grammy's dying." Harry blinked in surprise. That had not been what he expected her to say. "I heard my mummy tell Auntie Jo that they were going there. Because the doctor said she was really sick. And dying," she finished in a whisper, those big blue eyes of her's suddenly turning misty.

"I'm sorry, Maddie," Harry whispered back, the rarely used nickname falling from his tongue without much thought. "I know how hard it is to lose someone you love." She didn't respond immediately, only clutched her bunny tighter as a few tears fell.

"I know you do." Peering up at him, Madison frowned before looking back down at his comforter. "That's…that's why I wanted to talk to you. I've never…I don't know anyone that's died. Well, no one that was my family."

They sat in silence, Madison staring at the comforter while Harry watched her. He didn't know what to say, no one had ever really said anything he could repeat now. So, realizing that Jo had comforted him many times without needing words, he decided to do just that. Madison startled slightly when his thin arms wrapped around her shoulders, realizing a second too late that he was hugging her. Suddenly, her eyes already welled up, the tears came quickly, so she clutched onto him.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered again, feeling as she cried just a bit harder and her tears started to dampen his shoulder. "I don't really know what to say. Losing family is hard, a-and it's something that doesn't ever become easier. But, you'll always remember her, I'm sure. So you should cherish that, the time you've had with her, I mean. Those memories are the best gift you can have."

Madison wasn't so sure about that. She didn't want to just _remember_ her Grammy. However, somewhere deep inside, she knew he was at least partially right. Knowing who he is now, she realized he didn't remember his parents. He didn't have this supposed gift, and that's why he thought it so important. With a bit of a hiccough, she nodded into his shoulder. "I still don't want her to die."

"I know." Harry just hugged her a little tighter, wishing he could make everything better, but he understood he couldn't. Not really. Losing a loved one, whether you remember them or not, was not something that truly ever got better. They didn't talk much after that, only a few words here and there, a few more 'I'm sorry's', and at some point, they fell asleep.

The next morning, neither of them brought up the previous night, but there was something different. Madison still didn't like playing with Harry that much, not really. Harry still thought Madison was a spoiled brat who tried to take all of Jo's attention. Yet, there was something different now. Perhaps it was Madison realized that Harry didn't have to be like Ginny or her school friends, playing the same games or reading the same books, to be a good friend. However, it could have been that Harry realized that under the bratty and entitled exterior there was still a person with feelings who needed comforting just the same as anyone else.

* * *

The Second of June settle in with bright sunshine, but not too hot, a beautiful breeze in the air. Clara Schott would have called it a perfect day, and a year or so ago, you would have found her puttering around her garden with a pleased smile on her face. It was fitting, thought William and Annie as they watched their mother's casket lowered into the ground. Annie shed a few tears, but remained stoic in the face of her mother's death. The two hadn't talked in well over a decade, and even though she felt grief for her departed mother, it didn't hit her as hard as her brother. William had hidden his face behind his hands, shoulders lifting and shaking in heart wrenching sobs. Katherine sat beside him, eyes wet and occasionally wiping her face with a kerchief, but her main priority was her grieving husband and oldest daughter as she alternated between drawing them close.

Jo and Harry sat a row behind them, Liam and Becca between them. Harry hadn't wanted to come, a funeral being one of the few things in his life he had neither attended nor desired to. However, when Jo had informed him of the service, he felt obligated to come. For the Schott children. Unsurprisingly, he found it an experience he'd rather not repeat very often. It made his stomach clench uncomfortably, and his eyes kept tearing up, even though he hadn't known Mrs. Clara Schott.

Jo very much shared his sentiments, her own stomach creating such a strong surge of nausea she was worried she might truly vomit. _At a funeral_. Taking a deep breath, she tried to tamp down the sick storm and focus on the small children she had promised to keep an eye on. Liam, being so young, didn't understand what was happening, but sensing the mood, he had remained mostly quiet throughout the service. Becca alternated between utter boredom and sadness. She knew her grandmother had died, but she just didn't understand why she had to sit here for so long.

Soon, the service was completed and the casket was prepped for burial. The crowd stood, children stretching and breathing in relief at finally being allowed to walk and talk. The Schott siblings had decided against having any type of post-service gathering, both of their houses holding magical items, seeing as Clara Schott's friends and companions were mostly muggles. Therefore, the remaining Schott families were left to stand near the cemetery gate, receiving condolences and a few food dishes for at least another half hour. When this was finally over, Jo and Harry said their own goodbyes, receiving bone crushing hugs from the families before returning to their own home.

It felt strange, for both of them, to return to a silent house. They were both exhausted, emotionally drained from the day and ready for naps. However, they both had a strange itch under their skin. With a glance, observing the same irritation on his face, Jo released a sigh and shook her head with a little smile. "Strange, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Missing them being here."

Sighing as well, Harry nodded. "I thought I was ready for them to leave. Tired of sharing everything, and Liam always wanting to play, but…"

Humming, Jo just nodded for him to follow her back down the stairs and out of the muggle house. He didn't have to ask as they walked the familiar path towards their restaurant. There were a few other people inside, their voices bouncing around the dining area. The itch under their skin began to wane, comfort in the noise and people as they nibbled on fish and chips.

Jo had a sudden realization then, one she didn't particularly need if she were being honest. It had been an adjustment of course, but she had genuinely enjoyed having the Schott children in her home. Sweet little Liam, always ready to sit in her lap and have her read a story or play with his cars. Rambunctious Becca, dirt somehow always on her face or under her nails, chattering away quietly about all the flowers and animals and rocks. And of course, Madison, loudly talking her ear off no matter the time or what they were doing; always curious about what Jo was doing, why this, why that, and merlin, the way that girl devoured books.

It was the realization that she desired that, every day. Not specifically the Schott children, just children. Her own kids. It was a desire she thought had fizzled away after the war, after Lucy and Cole were gone. Seeing Harry, though, the patient and playful side that emerged from him around the younger children? He would have made a splendid older brother. That was the thought to stick with her for the remainder of the day, painful and sharp when she remembered that wasn't something neither he or she could have.

When she tucked him in that night, him leaning into her shoulder as they read through a story about a dog that lived on an island, a book left to him by Madison, she had a sudden urge to ask Harry about it. Placing the bookmark, Jo gave Harry a glance before clearing her throat. "Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." The clear sign this was a question that might push the boundaries she had erected on their conversations.

"Okay," he said, quirking an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Did you ever want…siblings?" She felt stupid for even asking. The way his little face fell instantly gave her his answer. _Of course he did, he wants a family_ , she thought guiltily. "I'm sorry, I don't know where that even came from."

" S'okay." He was mumbling, which clearly meant it was not okay. "Yeah, I suppose I did." He was silent for a moment, staring at his hands with sad green eyes. "Can I ask you something?" She nodded, already expecting where this was leading. "Did you ever want more kids? After…" Her throat clogged slightly as she nodded. Sighing, she just squeezed him close to her. _What a stupid thing to even think about_ , Jo thought bitterly, exhaling sharply through her nose.

"You would have been an excellent big brother. I'm sorry for bringing it up." Placing a long kiss to his forehead, she extricated herself from his bed before turning to properly tuck him in. "I love you, Harry. Get some rest, okay?" She offered him a sad smile, reaching across to brush her fingers through his hair. He just stared back, mind clearly grinding through thoughts he was working out how to word.

"You're an excellent mum. I'm sorry you didn't-"

"Shh, it's alright. Don't apologize for something that can't be changed." Sitting on the edge of the bed, she ran a hand through her hair as that same sadness, this dreadful feeling of loss weighing her heart down. "I haven't thought about that in years, y'know. Just having a houseful of children, I suppose it brought them back. I just," sighing, she turned to fix him with a resolute stare. "I don't need more children, so I don't want you thinking that's what I'm saying. I love you, and you are more than enough. Always."

He smiled sadly, nodding slightly. "I know. I love you too, and you're more than enough for me. Just because I've always thought about my mum and dad or what that would have been like, it doesn't mean I don't want our family. You're my family now, and I wouldn't change it."

Merlin, weren't they a pair. Shaking her head again, she just chuckled slightly. "Goodnight, kid."

"Goodnight, Jo." She sat there for another minute, just brushing her fingers through his hair as he started to fade into slumber. _He really would have made an excellent big brother._ Smiling sadly, she finally left to wallow in her ridiculous misery in her own bedroom.

* * *

While the Second of June had been beautiful and sunny, the Fourth rained cats and dogs. Lightning struck and thunder rumbled as Jo rushed towards the telephone box. Slamming the little door shut behind her, she shook herself slightly to rid herself of the rain still stuck to her clothing and face. "Bloody Nora, I should've listened to Poppy," grumbling and sighing, she wrung the excess water from her hair. The house elf had warned her to take an umbrella, but _no_ , she just couldn't listen apparently. With a final grumbling sigh, she lifted the telephone from its base, dialing six, two, four, four, two.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business." The monotonous female voice echoed around her.

"Josephine Delacroix. I'm here for my hearing with the Wizengamot."


	19. Chapter 19 Leverage

**Well, here we go. I couldn't stop with this chapter. Hopefully, there aren't many (preferably zero) mistakes. I always see so many little things after I've posted a new chapter, even after numerous proof-reads. Ah-ha, guess that's just how it goes.**

 **Once again, a huge thank you for the Reviews, Favorites and Follows. Sincerely, it means so much to me. And it may seem like a small thing, but receiving feedback is seriously such an awesome feeling. No, I'm not in anyway demanding reviews, I am just very grateful. _Any_ notification I receive for this story is always a little high point in my day.**

 _ **Anyways**_

 **As always,**

 **Enjoy**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 **"It is much easier to put existing resources to better use, than to develop resources where they do not exist."-George Soros**

* * *

 **Chapter 19**

 **June 1989**

Today is a very bad day.

She had slept through her alarm.

She had to charm her left shoe to match the right after a muggle woman had pointed out the mismatched pair.

Her hair, which she had charmed dry after being caught in a surprise flash of rain, had now poofed and frizzled.

She honestly wouldn't be surprised if there was lipstick on her teeth.

So yes, today was a _very_ bad day.

As in the worst day she has possibly ever lived in her entire life. And that's counting the day Derek Locke stole one of her bras and hung it in the common room. He had charmed it to sing.

Shaking her head of _that_ memory, Ruth Hartman, freshly certified legal-witch of Marsh And Morgg Legal Offices, stepped inside the telephone booth, dialing six-two-four-four-two.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Ruth Hartman, legal representation for a court heari-"

"Thank you," the woman's cool voice interrupted. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes. You are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."*

Pursing her lips, Ruth took the silver badge from the coin dispensary. "You didn't have to interrupt…"

* * *

The Ministry was packed at roughly seven fifty in the morning. Witches and wizards moved to and fro through the atrium, the floos flashing green repeatedly as ministry workers arrived for another full day of work. An enchanted parchment plane nearly smacked Jo in the face, the ash haired witch scowling and ducking as she snatched her wands back from the security wizard. She looked up in surprise when the Atrium turned completely silent. All heads were turned towards the arrival floos, each and every person straining to see over one another as a tall figure unfolded itself from within the fireplace.

Mumbles began to grow when Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace. His face was set in a rather serious way, those blue twinkling eyes finding Jo across the crowd. Lips listing ever so slightly, Dumbledore ducked his head, as if bowing to her. The several heads between them turned almost as one, interest piqued as to who Dumbledore could be acknowledging. She only blinked, crossing her arms over her chest as the crowd's mumbling started to grow with excitement.

"Isn't that…Delacroix?"

"Bloody hell, I thought they had died out."

"Loraine told me she had ran to South America after the war."

"Is that really a Delacroix?"

The whispers were so numerous they began to echo, turning louder with each exclamation of surprise. Exhaling sharply through her nose, Jo turned from the commotion with an eye roll and forced her way into the lift. "Oy, watch where you're… _oh_." The man she had bumped against wilted away, his face instantly giving way from irritation to shock. Even after the lift doors had slammed shut, she could still hear the whispers. " _Cock_ ," she mumbled, rubbing at her forehead, already exhausted, and she hadn't even faced the hardest part of her day yet.

Perhaps her removal from the wizarding society had been more noticed than she'd anticipated. She turned her head slightly, glancing at the other occupant of the lift. A rather short young woman with a frizzing brown bob and owlish green eyes stared up at her from the corner. She had folders pressed to her chest, parchment sticking out haphazardly. Her maroon robes were much too large, hiding her form under many wrinkles and pouches of excessive fabric.

" 'morning." Jo nodded her head before turning back to watch the floors pass by.

"...Good morning." The woman's voice was quiet, mouse like in pitch. She instantly turned pink when she realized the ash-haired witch was no longer paying her any attention.

The lift stopped on the ninth floor, that same cool voice from the phone box announcing the stop. Jo and the short woman stepped off together, turning left and quietly wading through the sea of bustle towards the staircase. It was a short walk, seeing as the ministry would rather not have people on the Department of Mystery's floor, but Jo couldn't stand walking another step around the atrium. The lift had just been a convenient escape.

Once inside the staircase, they both began the descent, neither speaking as their footfalls echoed loudly up and down. Jo opened the tenth floor's door, waving the other woman through with a nod before following. The smaller woman peered around, obviously unsure of where to go now, while Jo stepped easily around her and approached the reception desk. Dropping her summoning paper onto the desk, she was told to wait outside of Courtroom six.

After settling on the wooden bench, Jo released yet another long sigh. Her heartbeat had begun to pick up, the mutinous muscle trying to claw its way up into her throat. This was it, the day that she had been dreading for two months. The day that had kept her awake at night, mind working through each scenario of the worst possible conclusions. Fingers tapping away along the bench seat, she mentally checked her way through all of the points she and Andromeda had rehearsed all of yesterday.

"A-are you M-Miss Dellicrox?"

The mousy voice broke her train of thought. Eyebrows pulling together, she turned a frown on the small woman from the elevator. "…Delacroix."

Pink instantly overtook her cheeks, her nervous body language becoming much more _twitchier._ "M-my apologies. You are Miss Delacroix, yes?" Jo offered a single nod, an eyebrow raised in question when the woman quickly sat down beside of her. "My name is Ruth Hartman. I'm your court appointed legal representation. I was hoping to talk with you before we entered the courtroom. I hadn't realized who you were in the elevator."

"Right…I didn't… hold on…why would you wait until the day of the court case to make contact with me?" Pink rushed Ruth's cheeks again as she attempted to form coherent enough thoughts to try and save herself. Chewing on her bottom lip, she peeked up at the older witch in embarrassment. A legal-witch and her client needed to have some form of trust in their relationship for her to rely on Ruth as legal representation! She scrambled to explain, her tongue flopping uselessly as her brain tried to change tracks. Jo could only stare back in bafflement, she hadn't requested legal aide.

"W-well, I had only just been given the case last night. I spent all night working on it, though!" Ruth rushed through her words, her fingers tearing noisily through the mess of folders on her lap. "I had some questions I need answered, though, before we begin. Just to clarify some notes." Eyebrows raising higher with each word, Jo could only watch as the small woman rambled and scrambled, parchment papers being pulled out and hastily shoved away by shaking fingers.

"Ahh…I never requested legal representation…"

The paper shuffling paused.

"...you didn't?"

"No."

"Oh."

Ruth began furiously nibbling on her thumb, mind wracking itself as she tried to think if she had confused this with something else? Had she read the wrong name? Was she at the wrong case? Oh Rowena, her boss was going to kill her if she was at the wrong hearing! Rifling through her folders for the hundredth time, she located the case sheet. There, right at the top in bold ink: _A. D._ **V** _J. Delacroix_.

"B-but it says right here.…You're sure you didn't request legal representation?" She held the parchment up for Jo to squint at. As Jo began to shake her head, the doors beside them suddenly burst open.

"Miss Delacroix? You may now enter." The wizard, dressed sharply and mustache trimmed like a broom, offered the two women a sharp nod before disappearing back inside the courtroom.

"Listen," Jo mumbled, stopping Ruth with a tug on her sleeve when the younger witch tried to stand. "I'll be representing myself, but if you're supposed to be here, then come along in. You can take notes or something." With another sharp exhale, Jo finally stood and gave her neck a cracking roll. It was time, no more distractions. She needed her head clear.

Ruth squeaked, stumbling slightly to keep up with the taller woman's gait. And then she nearly fainted when she saw who the plaintiff was. Her stomach fell, the weight of an anvil trying to drag her into the ground so she could disappear. It was Albus freaking Dumbledore. Oh, hippogriff-dung, her boss was going to _murder_ her.

Once again, twinkling blue met crystalline sapphires as Jo and Dumbledore stared across the room at one another. With each step she took, the brighter his eyes seemed to twinkle. She tried to keep her face passive, but a frown still tugged her lips down. She could hear Ruth stumbling slightly behind her, a mumbled curse as they took their respective places in the defendant square. Two chairs appeared for them behind the table. With a sigh, Jo lowered herself into the chair closest to the aisle and set her folder of notes on the table. When Ruth tried to place her own mess beside it, her client picked it back up without a word and sat it on the floor. Her own head was enough of a mess right now, Ruth's chaos would have driven her over the edge.

Minister Millicent Bagnold, surrounded by wizards and witches in plum colored robes, cleared her throat with a quick snap of her gavel. "Right, everyone is here it seems. Let the record begin. Albus Dumbledore, you are here to bring charges of endangerment of one Harry Potter, a charge of reckless use of magic on muggles, and a charge of threatening a professor. Josephine Delacroix, how do you plead?" As she stood, Jo pushed her own folder towards her 'legal representation' with a pointed look.

"I would like to plead not guilty to all charges. I would also like to have the final charge dropped from the proceedings. I have proof that neither was a spell used or spoken, nor was physical violence used or threatened against Severus Snape. Also, the incident in question occurred within my own home. If there had been a dispute, I would have been well within my right to defend my own person and family." The wizengamot murmured to one another, too quiet for anyone on the floor to discern. Minister Bagnold looked to Dumbledore, wondering if Severus Snape was even in attendance. Dumbledore offered an smile, standing as well.

"I believe I may have been thoughtless in that charge. It is rather more a case of hearsay. Therefore, I would like to officially rescind the charge. I, however, will not be changing my mind for the others." Then he sat, smiling easily while adjusting his long beard and the tassles on the end of it, as if he wasn't sitting in a courtroom ready to hash it out with the witch across from him. The Minister nodded, once again snapping her gavel as the charge was struck from the record.

"Right, now that that's been cleared away, Miss Delacroix please take a seat. Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, as you have been instructed, any and all details discussed during this case shall not leave this courtroom. If there is even a single detail reported in tomorrow's morning prophet, each and every one of you shall lose your position. Respond 'aye' if this is completely understood." Minister Millicent Bagnold, a woman nearing forty with russet hair held in a sensible bun, cast her hawk-like gaze upon each of her plum-robed jurors. A resounding chorus of 'ayes' filled the room, and Jo released a breath of relief. "Splendid. Now, Albus Dumbledore, let us hear your case."

The Headmaster, dressed in gryffindor red and gold (and if Jo wasn't mistaken, with small snitches flittering about) took a moment to stand and glide around his table. His old fingers once again danced along the tassles of his beard. "I would like to make one thing clear, before I begin. I believe, with the utmost respect, that Josephine Delacroix has committed these acts without any malicious or dark intent. I am confident that she is, and has always been, a _good_ person that has done what she believes is right. However, even with the best intentions, a person can commit questionable acts which is not acceptable in a modern society." As he spoke, walking slowly along the front of the room, Dumbledore's twinkling gaze found her. His words, she supposed, were meant to be kind, a grandfatherly way of saying he was 'just disappointed' in her. She leaned back in her chair, watching the show with a frown.

Ruth was still reading all of the notes, clearly struggling with processing that information along with keeping an ear on the proceedings happening around them. _Oh, bloody…Merlin…how am I supposed to oppose_ _ **Dumbledore**_ _? I'm doomed._ She gave her client another look, confused above everything else on how this woman was so calm. In fact, this Delacroix woman almost looked bored. Facing Dumbledore. Perhaps a plea of lunacy then?

"The thirty-first of October, 1981; we all know the importance of this date. I do believe, however, that some individuals forget that a boy had lost his parents. That night, he was delivered to the only living family left in this world. Lily Potter had made it clear this is where she wished her son to end up in the face of their unfortunate deaths. For the last seven years, this is where Harry Potter has resided. There has not been a single incident in this time; no muggle police reports, no emergency medical treatment, not even a note home from his school."

It was… _interesting_. Almost an out of body experience for Jo. To watch the great Albus Dumbledore _lie_ without even batting an eye. Oh sure, perhaps it wasn't outright lying. No, it was worse. This was nothing but clear-cut manipulation, ambiguous wording fitting the context he provided, but the truth? No. It was fucking not. How many times had he done just this, only she didn't have the outside knowledge to recognize it? Is this what being a respected leader was?

"Sometime in August of 1988, Harry Potter and Josephine Delacroix somehow became acquainted. Now, this is a personal guess, but I believe they developed a friendship in this time. The beginning of September, it was noticed that Harry Potter was no longer living with his family. It was also found, after I had sent Professor Severus Snape to the residence, that his family did not know where Harry had gone. He was missing. Nearly a week later, after many witches and wizards had searched in fear for his well-being, it was discovered that he was staying with Josephine Delacroix."

The atmosphere, spun around his finger just as Dumbledore is known to do, suddenly changed. It turned from one of a story, lulling and dull, to that of accusatory, electric and riveting. Ruth felt chills as her client and Dumbledore locked gazes, an electric field forming between the two. Oh no. No no. She was not ready for this. This was her _first_ case. As in, no longer an apprentice, no longer sitting to the side taking notes. Why did her boss give this to her?!

"I sent Minerva McGonnagal and Severus Snape to the Delacroix household, in hopes that they could convince the two that Harry must return to his _family_. Miss Delacroix adamantly refused, and Harry, a naive and impressionable eight year old boy, followed her lead. In hopes that his family could talk reason into the boy, my professors paid them yet another visit. Only, curiously, they no longer remembered Harry Potter. They had no knowledge that the boy had ever existed. A strong memory charm, much stronger than the simple obliviate that is generally used by the ministry, had been placed on each of the members of the household. It was not recorded in the Ministry archives, there was no order for an obliviation to have taken place, and even more importantly, this was a family who knew of the existence of magic. There was barely a spell that could have been demonstrated that would have required their minds be tampered with."

Ruth looked rather pale beside her, once again thumbing through her notes in hopes of _anything_ to save their hides. Jo, looking considerably much more calm, merely cleared her throat and sipped her cup of water. It seems Dumbledore would be spinning a long tale.

"Moving beyond this, once again I believe not malicious, but inexcusable act, we enter the month of November. November twenty-third, Josephine Delacroix, a matured witch at the age of twenty-seven, has an accident. Her magical core depletes itself entirely in an explosive and nearly fatal expulsion during a moment of inebriated distress. Young Harry was witness to this terrible moment, _miraculously_ unscathed. Miss Delacroix is rushed to St. Mungo's the next day. Her core, I had been told, weak and incapable of creating magic. She had been revived by healers in the emergency unit, but her core was damaged, possibly beyond repair. After two weeks, she is released from the hospital, still without magic. From there, she enters a program known as MAA, Magicals' Alcoholic Anonymous."

With a hearty, deep felt sigh, Dumbledore paused in front of her table. His hand rests on top of the wood as, once again, he gazes down on her kindly, but extremely disappointed. "In conclusion, I believe Miss Delacroix has acted in a way she believes is right. A young boy approached her, possibly in need of friendship or understanding of his own strange abilities. If she had only offered friendship, we would not be here today. However, Miss Delacroix put not only young Harry Potter, but also herself in grave danger. She acted outside of the law by obliviating Harry's muggle family members' memories so that he could not return home. Finally, though a _good_ person, Miss Delacroix has shown she is not a _healthy_ person. To lose one's magic is a clear sign of a disturbed mind." With those final words, which had been for Jo more so than the court, he turned away. With his hands stretched out, appeasing but with a hint of pleading, he completed his statement. "I do not wish to see Miss Delacroix deteriorate any further by being placed within the walls of Azkaban, but it is clear that Harry Potter cannot remain in her care. It is dangerous, and quite possibly fatal."

The jurors were mumbling again, heads bent towards one another as they excitedly discussed the presented information. Minister Bagnold remained stoic, watching as Dumbledore glided back to his own table. She cleared her throat, silencing the room instantly. "Thank you, Dumbledore. I believe it would do the jurors well to take a recess. This is a rather intense case, and I would prefer each of my members to remain within an unbiased mindset before we continue. Miss…Hartman?" Jo quirked an eyebrow when the Minister had to refer to the parchment in front of her. "Is this agreeable for you and your client?"

Ruth squeaked, choking on her own spit when the Minister addressed her. Her!

"Yes, it's agreeable, Minister." Jo responded, staring dryly down on the 'legal representation' as the young woman tried to stifle the hacking exploding from her mouth.

* * *

"Okay, spill it, kid. You're not a legal-witch are you?" Jo sighed, leaning her chair back on two legs as Ruth remained in the same position she had been in since the recess began. Head cradled in her hands, muttering curses under her breath, and her left leg shaking uncontrollably. They were the only two left in the courtroom; Dumbledore having disappeared along with the wizengamot. "Well?"

".….." She mumbled something, even quieter than Harry could ever accomplish when he had been caught out.

"What?"

"I-I said, I am a legal-witch. I'm just a new legal-witch," Ruth finally lifted her head, staring blankly at the empty juror stand. Perhaps her mind had finally cracked? She couldn't put together even one coherent thought, only the word doomed echoed around her skull.

"How new is new, then?"

"Last week. This is my first solo case."

Jo let her chair fall back onto all four legs, releasing a strong sigh as she settled against the table. "So you chose to go against Dumbledore as your first case? That's…well, seems pretty fucking stupid to me." The little witch looked up at her with wide wet eyes, her cheeks flaming pink as she released a little sniffle.

"I d-didn't know. His full name wasn't on the docket. Plus, my boss handpicks the cases. He told me this would be a cakewalk…" Ruth just shook her head again, sniffing loudly as she tried to hold back her tears. Jo thought her boss was either a class-A moron or a class-A Asshole. Either way, it left her stuck with a legal-witch, who was currently suffering a mental breakdown.

"Hmm. We-e-ell…we're in a bit of a pickle, then, aren't we?" Ruth could only nod. "Alright…okay. Listen up, Ruth, we're gonna make it through this. I need you to understand something very vital to this hearing." Misty green eyes slowly worked their way up to Jo's, the girl frowning in confusion. "I don't plan on losing, you got that? I've got a boy at home that's depending on me- ** _us_** to win this. So whatever happens, whatever walls are thrown at us, we're going to fucking break them down, and win. Got it?"

"...How in the name of Merlin do you expect to beat Dumbledore?!" Something inside of her had switched from despair to panic. Jo just smirked slightly, sliding her folder back towards the girl. Tapping it once, she only said three words.

"Just read that."

* * *

The wizards and witches of the Wizengamot grumbled and whispered as they retook their seats. The Minister was the last to sit, her stern gaze falling on Dumbledore then Delacroix and Ruth. With a curt nod, she banged the gavel. "Let the record begin. Miss…" she glanced at the parchment again, "Hartman, it is time for your client's statement."

Ruth, not at all confident but no longer panicked, gave her own shaky nod in response. Jo gave her a nod, smiling slightly as the legal-witch rose on jelly filled legs. "Thank you, M-Minister." She willed herself not to blush, taking a moment to push her chair back under the table. With a shaky breath, she tried to push the vomit back down and will her heart to stop tap-dancing its way through her chest. "Mr. Dumbledore-" Merlin, _Mister Dumbledore_ , was she mental?!- "Has brought forth many unsavory and, frankly, terribly misconstrued charges against Miss Delacroix. My client wishes it to be known that many of these charges do have a shred of truth to them, as all tales do, but that every action taken was in the best interest of Harry Potter."

Jo stopped tapping her finger, instead leaning back into her chair and moving that hand to her face, hiding the smile tugging at her lips. It seems her twitchy little legal-witch still had some fire in there. She felt a tad guilty, tossing the girl onto the floor, but she was curious. This Ruth Hartman was awfully young to have completed her certification, that had to mean something. She wanted to see exactly what that something was.

Plus, wouldn't it just be all the sweeter to see Albus Dumbledore taken down in court by a twenty year old?

"On the first of August, 1988, Josephine Delacroix woke to find Harry Potter sitting in her living room-"

Ruth was on a roll. She wasn't even sure how her mouth was creating all of these words! But damn, it felt good. She could see how the members of the Wizengamot's eyes started to take on a shine of interest. They were curious? Good, because she had a story to tell. As she led them through Josephine and Harry's first encounters, the clash between Josephine and Harry's Aunt, the battle of wills between Josephine and Professor Snape; she felt her spine straighten, her steps lengthening as that snuffed out confidence re-ignited with a vengeance.

"-And of course, we come to that disastrous night of Miss Delacroix's accident. As we can show you with the medical records, Miss Delacroix's core did not just randomly disrupt. From the year 1981 until 1988, Miss Delacroix has lived a secluded and magic-less life. As testified by her healers, Miss Delacroix's core had become extremely atrophied, weak and small, in her hiatus on magic use. It became rather like that of a child's. Unfortunately, just because she did not use her magic, this does not mean her body had stopped producing it. For those seven, nearly eight, years, her body created stored pockets of magic. When she had become upset, as a child would, her magic accidentally reacted. However, unlike a child, she had years of pent up mature magic that had been waiting for an escape. This terrible incident was not a reaction of someone who is unstable, but the effect of an unknown phenomena happening within her own body. She has worked for many months to re-strengthen her core, and has surpassed even the Healers' expectations. Miss Delacroix uses magic daily, and she has zero plans of ever stopping."

Ruth turned then, finally facing her opponent, and he smiled kindly back at her. It nearly made her falter, the pride her old Headmaster had shining in his eyes. "Those who fought in the war," she paused, faltering for real when he nodded with that gentle smile. Swallowing loudly, she gave herself a mental shake, and began again. "Those who fought in the war came out on the other side scarred. This is true for all of us, even if we did not fight. Mis- _Josephine_ has taken her time to heal, to better herself, just as well all did. To attack her on the basis of a medical condition that she had not known would, or even _could,_ occur is a disgusting misuse of the legal system."

"All that Josephine Delacroix has done since her fortunate meeting with Harry has been to better his life, and in the process, she has bettered her own. Harry is in a healthy household where he is not starved, neglected, nor is he abused. His grades and social relationships have grown. His health and happiness has grown. I believe, if you choose to separate Harry Potter and Josephine Delacroix, you will be separating a family, and it will have negative consequence on two influential members of our society."

Unable to contain her blush, Ruth turned quickly away from Dumbledore's twinkling _proud_ eyes. "Thank you," she forced out breathlessly, quickly crossing the room to re-take her seat. She took a deep gulp of water, throat suddenly parched, as the wizengamot broke into whispers once again. Jo, hand held slightly away from her mouth, offered another smile. "You did good," she mouthed with a wink, before turning to face the jurors and Minister.

"Thank you, Miss Hartman," the Minister did not look at the parchment this time. With a curt nod to the legal-witch, Minister Bagnold had a feeling she would be seeing this particular girl in the future. "Today, we have taken both statements. Tomorrow, we shall reconvene to begin questioning and reviewing evidence. Once I end this session, Miss Delacroix you shall exit to the room on your right. Mr. Dumbledore, you shall exit to the room on your left. A sworn auror will take the memories you wish to show as evidence, and they will be examined tonight for any tampering. All memories to be used as evidence must go through this procedure, please keep that in mind before recording the memory as evidence. If you cannot gain access to the memory, the evidence will be seen as insufficient and struck from the record. Is that clear?" When both parties offered their understanding, the Minister nodded curtly and raised her gavel. "Then, I, Minister Bagnold, end this session. We shall reconvene tomorrow, the fifth of June, at eight in the morning in Courtroom six." The gavel came down, and the wizengamot burst into a flurry of movement and talking.

Sighing, Jo turned towards Ruth with a weary smile. "Well, legal-witch, what now?"

* * *

Ruth stood awkwardly outside the courtroom, shifting from foot-to-foot as she waited for Jo to emerge. She would be accompanying the older witch to her home, so that they could do a crash course on how she was to proceed with the hearing. It seems Josephine had been extremely prepared for her case, and Ruth had much to learn about the details of her defense. A sigh escaped her as the feeling of crushing dismay pushed her shoulders down. She wasn't sure what had happened in that room today, but it had to have been a fluke.

Actually, all of this has to be some sort of fluke.

This wasn't even her job!

She was a junior legal-witch, small-fry court is where she was supposed to be. _Not facing Albus Dumbledore!_ Legal guardianship cases was not even her field of expertise. None of this was! She was just supposed to be a legal-aide to witches or wizards who couldn't afford a _good_ legal representative. Like the witch who had brought a complaint against and demanded compensation from an old wizard who had knocked her broom into the floo, sending it Merlin-knows where. That was her bread-and-butter, not…not _this_.

She looked up in surprise when someone cleared their throat from beside her. _Oh no, anyone but you_. Her cheeks flamed at the thought, guilt pulling at her stomach for such a horrible thought. She truly hoped all those rumors of his mastery of legilimency were just that.

Albus Dumbledore merely smiled, offering her a nod. "Hello, Miss Hartman. I must say, it was a delightful surprise to see you today, and such a splendid job you did. I daresay, I've never seen a more natural legal-witch." She could only gape, _why was he complimenting her?_ "Ah, I really must hop-along though. I am in complete suspense to see you in action again tomorrow. Have a splendid night, Miss Hartman."

"A-Yes. Y-you as well, Headmaster." His eyes only twinkled brightly, and then he was gone, crimson and gold robes fluttering around as he seemed to glide down the hallway.

"He is a funny one."

Ruth jumped, heart in her throat for the millionth time that day when Jo materialized beside her. "Miss Delacroix," she squeaked, blushing deeper at the pitch she had released.

"Well, let's get going, kid. I'd rather miss the hustle and bustle." With a nod of her head, Jo started in the opposite direction of Dumbledore. Ruth scurried after her with the realization that she was a mouse in a fight between a lion and well, she wasn't sure what to call Josephine Delacroix, but she was sure it was something big.

* * *

Harry had his head to the floor, legs propped up against a dark wood tree, just staring up at the ceiling. There were birds up there, he was sure some were hummingbirds. They would flutter this way and that, zipping around so fast his eyes could barely keep track. The flowers along the ceiling provided whatever they were after, beaks burrowed deep inside before fluttering to the next. Rubbing his face, he frowned deeply when his fingers caught the rim of his glasses. He and Jo had gone to the doctor yesterday, or healer rather. Jo had said the last medical record she had for him was from three years ago. Apparently, he's supposed to go much more often than that.

Perhaps if the healer hadn't told Jo he needed glasses, he would consider it.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, still adapting to the new weight set against it. He supposed they were okay, at least he could see the birds by the ceiling now. Well, there was one other thing he could say he liked about his glasses. When he picked out the frames, a round set that had just caught his attention, Jo had given him the softest smile. _"You look just like your father."_

Although, he thought with a giggle, Jo had thrown an absolute fit when they returned home, her own glasses thrown into a drawer to presumably never see daylight again. "I refuse to accept I'm _that_ old." She had pouted, squinting at the paper with a bitter glare. That made him feel the tiniest bit better. Or at least, it had, until Poppy and Jo had informed him he actually will have to wear his. So unfair.

The sound of the floo startled him out of his thoughts. Twisting himself around, he watched as Jo emerged, a small woman in maroon robes coming through after her. "Hey, kid. This is Ruth, Ruth that's Harry." Jo started towards him, quirking her head slightly at his awkward position. The woman behind her, Ruth, was still gaping at the Grand Hall. "What'cha doing?," Jo asked, plopping down beside him.

"Oh, you know, just contemplating throwing my glasses out the window. See where they end up," he shrugged, trying to read Jo's very calm face and body language. Did the hearing go well? Did they win?

"Nah, throw them in the pond. That would be a lot more mysterious." She smirked, running her fingers over the few flowers between them. "Go on then," she sighed, smirk softening into her little smile. "I know you want to ask."

"How did court go?"

Neither of them paid any mind to the legal-witch just stumbling around, awe-struck by the towering trees and blooming flowers on _the ceiling!_

"Eh, fine. We just made our statements today. Tomorrow, we have to go back to begin interviews and viewing all of the memories. It's going to be a damn process," groaning, Jo fell onto her back to watch as Ruth pointed at the pond with a puzzled face. "I don't miss it," she mumbled, rubbing at her forehead slightly. She had a bit of a headache, honestly. Today had been draining.

"Don't miss what?," asked Harry, returning to his previous position with his feet against the tree.

"Legal shit. That was my job. Or, well, it was my job when necessary. Had to run the shop most days." Harry's curiosity peaked its head out. Jo had never talked about this before. "Before you even ask, I'll tell you when you're older. More so because I have a headache, and desperately want a nap."

"...then why don't you just say you'll tell me later?"

"Because I'd rather tell you when you're older." Jo just chuckled when he huffed. He didn't realize she was talking war-time, and that was alright. He could ask again in a few years, when he would understand better. "The shop, though, is a different story. Family business, all that shi-"

"Miss Delacroix, am I dead?" Ruth, bright little thing she was, had somehow come to the conclusion that she had indeed died. Some unfortunate accident during floo travel. At least it had been quick, she thought, she hadn't felt a thing. She could almost feel Josephine's exhaustion in the sigh that was released from across the room.

"No, Ruth. It's just magic."

"Right, magic. Of course, obviously it's just magic." Ruth hesitantly approached a grand juniper. It dwarfed her. More accurately she imagined this is how an insect would see the world. Then it shook, and she released a squeak, backtracking quickly. "But-"

"Magic, Ruth. You're a witch, aren't you?" Jo frowned up at the woman, raising an eyebrow when Ruth squeaked again. Yawning, she rolled onto her stomach before standing, groaning like the _old_ person she apparently was. "C'mon, let's get some food. I'm starving."

Harry watched as this Ruth woman stumbled over a few rocks and roots, obviously in a hurry to leave the Grand Hall. Smiling slightly, he shook his head with a laugh up at the Juniper. "That was mean." The tree just shook again, a slight groan reverberating from its unseen top all the way down to its roots. "Okay, it was a bit funny."

* * *

Ruth arrived before Jo the following morning, pacing in front of courtroom six as she mentally reviewed her checklist for the day. She had barely slept a wink the night before, reading and re-reading all of the copied notes Jo had given her. Thank Rowena her client was much more organized and prepared than she had even come close to being. In fact, the thought had struck her sometime around three in the morning, Josephine Delacroix would have made an excellent legal-witch. She planned on keeping these notes as reference points for future cases. They were outlined and laid-out much better than any way she had been shown before.

" 'Morning, Ruth." The raspy voice made her jump. Jo had a feeling many things made the girl jump. Smiling slightly, she held out a travel cup of coffee.

"Oh, no thank-you, I don't drink coffee," Ruth squeaked, still pacing and wringing her fingers. She had a bag today, her folder of papers hidden inside of it. It had been hiding under her couch yesterday morning, and she had completely forgotten it in her haste.

"Right. You're gonna drink it, anyways. Trust me."Shoving the cup into her hand, Jo passed her to take a seat on the bench. With a hum, she rubbed at her forehead and reclined back. Her head seriously needed to take a break, or these headaches were going to be the death of her.

"I don't understand how you look so calm right now. How are you so calm?" Rose was pacing again, her voice pitching a touch higher with what sounded distinctly like hysteria. "We need to think about what Dumbledore could be bringing to the table today. Who is he bringing in? What memories will he be showing? What evidence will we have to show today? Who-"

"Just drink the damn coffee. And sit down."

Jo kept her eyes shut, sipping her own coffee before resting her head back to face the ceiling. Her head hurt, she was bloody tired, and she really didn't have the patience to give Ruth a pep-talk. She just needed some silence and her coffee. Thankfully, Ruth listened, the bench creaking slightly as she sat and hesitantly sipped her coffee. It burned her tongue, tasted bloody awful, but Merlin, it made her instantly feel just a touch better. Staring at Jo from the corner of her eye, she took another tentative sip.

The next ten minutes passed in relative silence, both women sipping at their coffee as they grasped onto these few minutes of peace for the sake of their mental states. Finally, the man with a push broom of a mustache and sharp suit called them in. Sighing, Jo stood, cracking her neck in a roll and started for the door. Ruth followed, rolling her own neck. She instantly winced at the sharp crick it created, stumbling after her client while rubbing her now sore neck.

They took their seats, the wizengamot already in place, and Dumbledore smiling from his own table. There were a few differences to the room today. A podium had been erected between Dumbledore and Jo. To the left of Dumbledore, placed so that all in attendance could see, was long oval glass. A slow swirling liquid had been trapped within it: The Pensive Mirror. "Splendid, we're all here," Minister Bagnold began. "Let the record begin. Bring forth the first witness, Severus Snape."

Snape, head-to-toe in black, descended from the aisle to take the podium in the center. His face, lacking its usual sneer, held a rather pinched expression. He refused to glance at Delacroix or Dumbledore, resigned to playing his part in this farce of a trial. "Minister."

"Severus Snape, you are called forth to relay the interactions between you and Harry Potter's muggle family. After, you are to relay the interactions between you and Miss Delacroix. Following these statements, your memories will be played for the court to see. If Mr. Dumbledore or Miss Delacroix see it necessary, we will allow questions. Is this understood?"

"Perfectly," Snape drawled, placing his pale hands against the podium.

"You may begin."

Jo settled into her seat, fingers drumming against her thigh as Snape began his own tale. Ruth was poised, coiled and alert, a quill in hand as she prepared to take notes for questioning. Jo reserved doubt there would be much, if any, questioning of this witness.

"On the twenty seventh of August, the Headmaster requested I visit Potter's Aunt. He believed that I, being previously acquainted with the woman, would have the best reception, and she would answer our questions on the boy's whereabouts. She was, and always has been, rather against the use or mention of magic. She had been…unwelcoming. However, after some convincing, she relayed to me that she had no idea where the boy had gone, that he was indeed missing. After our visit with Delacroix, Minerva McGonnagall and I paid another visit to the muggle family. Their reception was noticeably… _warmer_. They hadn't a clue who we were, even though the Aunt has known me since childhood. When asked about Harry Potter, they were unaware of his existence as well. After we rendered them unconscious, we ran diagnostic spells. The conclusion was that an obliviation spell, an extremely crafty and strong obliviation, had been used on the entire family. Although, their son had a mild version of this spell used. We believe it was due to him having less to forget than the Aunt and Uncle. Once they were reawakened, we merely told them we must have the wrong address and took our leave."

He continued from there, describing his visit to Jo's house. She hid a smirk when he mentioned her ridiculous amount of mongrels, a clear testimony towards her disturbed mind. He finished, of course, with Harry's refusal to return to his Aunt's home, and how Jo had clearly convinced and coerced the boy into staying with her.

"And one more thing, if I may. It is only my opinion, of course, but I believe it holds a least a shred of merit. Josephine Delacroix has a past that should not be ignored. She is a widow and the mother of a dead child. A magical orphan, young and malleable, comes to her home by accident? Perhaps it was a chance she could not…pass up." The way his voice drawled, lilting ever so nicely at the end; Jo could hear the smirk in it. Ruth put her hand on her arm, squeezing lightly in warning. She could not react. Jo released a sharp exhale through her nose, trying desperately not to glare, but oh, she wanted to do a hell of a lot more than just glare at the asshole. If she ever got the chance, she was going to break that nose.

A sworn auror approached the pensive mirror then, dumping the vial of memories into the glass enclosure. The memories were quick, mostly matching Severus Snape's account. Mostly. There was that bit he left out, about basically threatening Petunia Dursley into answering him. Although, perhaps Jo didn't have room to judge. That woman had been a right pain to deal with.

"Albus Dumbledore, do you have any questions?"

"No, Minister. I daresay I don't," Dumbledore answered easily, his voice genial.

"And you, Miss Hartman?"

"Only a couple, Minister." Minister Bagnold nodded, waving for the legal-witch to take the floor. "Mr. Snape, you claim to know Harry Potter's Aunt as an acquaintance of many years, is this correct?"

"...I've known her since childhood. We had not spoken for years." Snap watched Ruth circle the podium, his eyes bearing down on her with the beginnings of a sneer on his lips.

"And would you say that Harry's Aunt reacts…objectionably to the existence of magic? Not just the use or mention, as you had stated?" Ruth's question sparked something in that room, the jurors leaning in slightly to clearly dissect the scene before them.

"I would, yes." Snape's answering drawl brought the jurors closer to the edge of their seats. Could she be suggesting such a thing?

Ruth circled back around, her fingers coming together in a steeple at her bellybutton. "And would your opinion be that Harry Potter was well cared for in this household with his Aunt?"

The jurors waited on bated breath as Snape took a long moment to answer. "I…do not believe so, no."

"Thank you, Mr. Snape. That is all, Minister." Ruth returned to her seat, crossing one leg over the other and instantly jiggling the hanging foot as her adrenalin surged. Merlin, it was quite a sensation to be questioning Severus Snape. His glares and snappish attitudes had terrified her in those last years at Hogwarts. Not here, though. Here, Severus Snape had been…oh screw it, he had been her bitch, and she was bloody proud of it.

"Thank you, Mr. Snape. That is all. Please exit to your left so you may retrieve your memories." The jurors were whispering already, their eyes watching the Potion master keenly as he swept from the room. "Miss Hartman, I should strike those questions from the record. Watch your wording." Minister Bagnold gazed down her nose at the young witch sternly. Blushing, Ruth nodded her head with a quiet apology. "To the next witness. Miss Arabella Figg."

Jo turned, raising an eyebrow as the squib woman hobbled slightly down to the podium. What was she a witness for? How was she connected? She nudged Ruth slightly, frowning as the older woman worked her way into the podium. She tapped Ruth's note page, nodding quickly when Ruth poised herself with the quill.

"Hullo, Minister." Miss Figg warbled, she smiled airily and ran her hands over the creases in her sweater. Jo could see the cloud of cat hair slowly glide to the floor. Wait...she knows this woman. Jo squinted up at the witness, racking her brain for any clue. How does she know this woman?

"Miss Figg, thank you for coming. You have been brought forth today to relay your experience with Harry Potter and Josephine Delacroix. After your statement, we will view your memories. Then, if they see it necessary, Mr. Dumbledore and Miss Hartman may question you. You may begin." Minister Bagnold nodded, tapping the gavel once to demand silence from her jurors.

"Oh, alright. Well, I've watched the Potter boy a few times over the years. That muggle family of his would just drop him off, their car packed up for a day with their boy, and leave for hours. He was a quiet boy, you know. He was always gentle with my babies, playing with their feather sticks and jingle bells. The only boy in the neighborhood I'd ever trust with 'em!" The jurors and Minister looked equally concerned and confused by the woman. They hadn't a clue what she was talking about. "Why, one time, I even got him to talk to me about living with them muggles. Like I said, he was very quiet. Would always keep his lips sealed about them. But I tell ya, they worked that boy to the bone! Even as a wee one. He'd mow the grass, paint the shutters, weed the flower beds, take out the rubbish. Lord only knows how much he did inside the house. He told me once, rather on accident I think, that he didn't even have a bedroom. Can you believe?"

Jo slowly turned her gaze from Miss Figg to Dumbledore, just incredulous that he would choose her as _his_ witness. If she didn't sound bloody loony, Jo would think her case had just been won. What in the hell was he playing at?

In true Dumbledore fashion, he had relaxed into his chair, smiling away as Arabella Figg threw his case to the dragons. As if he could feel her gaze, he turned that kind smile her way and gave the shallowest dip of a nod. Jo frowned, focusing again on the witness as she began describing the night Harry had disappeared. The night his Uncle had whipped him with a switch, and Harry had accidentally apparated away. Just what the fuck was happening?

Miss Figg's statement ended with her seeing Jo walk Harry to school. "And you had better believe them muggles never walked the poor boy to school. Ever." Her memories played out exactly as she had described. Little chubby toddler Harry playing with her cats, quietly scarfing down any food she placed in front of him. A slightly older Harry, maybe six or seven, being left in her care from morning until well after dark. He had asked Miss Figg is his family was giving him to her. Miss Figg watching, more than a few times, as Harry's uncle whipped him in the back garden. Miss Figg catching sight of a happier Harry as he walked to school with Jo, laughing and bumping her hip against his. When the memories finally came to an end, Jo shook her head vigorously at Ruth. Dumbledore also denied his chance to question the witness.

"Call for a recess."

"I'm sorry, what? Why?" Ruth whispered incredulously.

"Just _do_ it. _Now_." Jo looked spooked, her eyes wide as she urged Ruth to just listen to her.

"O-okay." Standing quickly, Ruth fought the blush from her cheeks when all eyes landed on her. "Minister, my client and I would like to request a recess?" Jo quietly slapped a hand to her forehead. Merlin, this girl needed a crash course on _being_ a legal-witch. She didn't even want to imagine what her mentor had been like. Did they even win a case before?

"Granted. In fact, why don't we end this session for today. Tomorrow, eight in the morning." Minister Bagnold looked equally disturbed as the defendant. Her jurors were whispering, it seemed that was all they were good for. High profile cases were treated as nothing more than a gossip sesh in the juror chambers. With a crack of her gavel, Minister Bagnold remained seated as her jurors began filtering from the stands. Dumbledore, Ruth and Jo remained seated as well, waiting until the final wizengamot member had vacated the room. "Would one of you care to explain what in Merlin's name that was?"

"I second that," Jo rasped out, glaring across the room at Dumbledore.

"Shut up, Delacroix," the Minister snapped, pointing her gavel with a stern glare on the Headmaster. "Are you trying to make a mockery of my court, Dumbledore? I would suggest you reconsider it, immediately."

"My apologies, Minister. I would never intend such an offense." Bowing his head, that damn beard of his nearly brushing the floor, Dumbledore smoothed the Minister's ruffled feathers easily. "I had not anticipated my witness having such a long history with Harry Potter. Obviously, I would never bring forth such a damaging testimony against my own case."

"Are you fucking serious? What-"

"Delacroix, shut the hell up." The Minister waved, _waved_ , her off. Sitting back in her chair, she eyed the three of them suspiciously as her mouth pursed. She began lightly tapping the gavel against her desk, clearly thinking through something.

Groaning slightly, Jo set her chair back on two legs. Ruth looked at her with wide eyes, questioning what was happening. Jo could only shrug, rubbing at her forehead once again as she turned her stare to the ceiling. She couldn't even begin to decipher this. He knew exactly what Arabella Figg was going to say, what she knew. She was his damn spy, for fuck's sake. Why had he even brought her in? She couldn't see the benefit of it, no matter how she looked at it.

"Should I even continue this hearing?" The Minister finally sighed, her face morphing from a stern commander to a weary woman tired of the games. "You, Dumbledore, just threw your entire case out the window. You know that, I know that, Delacroix surely knows it. What do you suppose I do, then?"

Dumbledore chuckled a bit, holding his hands out in that appeasing manner. "I believe you already know the answer to that, Minister. I do not presume something so prideful as to believe I can decide for the Minister of Magic." He looked rather peaceful, smiling gently as he poured himself a half glass of water from the pitcher. "You have always been an intelligent witch, Millicent. Someone with a strong moral compass, not easily swayed, and always just. I believe whatever conclusion you come to shall be the correct one."

The Minister resumed her gavel tapping, returning to her thoughts. Jo found her gaze drawn to the enigma that was Dumbledore, her eyebrow raised in question as she considered the man. Dumbledore found it refreshing, her face held no trace of its previous hatred for him. He offered her another nod. Hesitating, she returned it. Her confused face instantly turned to a frown when the Headmaster winked.

"Alright, fine." The three turned their attention back to the Minister. She had regained her previous stern atmosphere. "We shall reconvene tomorrow morning as planned. And Delacroix?"

"Yes, Minister?"

"Keep that big mouth shut, and don't muck this up."

* * *

"Dumbledore!" Ruth shrunk away from the woman, her anger creating an almost tangible shock wave of magic around her. "Dumbledore, don't you dare think you can disappear after that! Where the fuck did he go?" Jo breathed sharply through her nose, head swinging back and forth to try and find that-that-that _fucking_ _git_.

"I-I think he's already left, Josephine." Ruth flinched backwards when Jo spun around to stare down at her. "He probably apparated," she mumbled. Jo released another strong exhale through her nose, her face beginning to clear of the rage and confusion churning beneath her skin. Inhaling to the count of five, she slowly released the mayhem inside. Ruth watched, wary and slightly shaken, as the anger drifted from the woman's face, turning it soft and vulnerable as Jo looked back up and down the hallway.

"What is he doing?" Jo rubbed at her forehead again, barely listening as Ruth offered a feeble 'I don't know' in response. Shaking her head, she finally started her own way down the hall. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

* * *

Jo sat numbly at the defense table, her fingers wrapped around the cool glass of water as they waited for the Minister to begin today's session. She could feel Ruth fidgeting against the table, her legal-witch nervous enough for the both of them as the anticipation began to crush down around them. She could feel those twinkling blue eyes weighing down on her, a soft quilt of warmth that she wanted to shred.

All night. She had been awake all night thinking. Thinking and thinking and thinking. Only one conclusion came to mind, and it really only confused her more. Dumbledore had thrown the case. He'd just handed it over to her. Once the ruling was made, Harry would legally be in her custody, and the only way to change it would be for another trial. He _wants_ Harry legally under her guardianship. Why?

"Let the record begin. Mr. Dumbledore and Miss Delacroix, please rise." Minister Magnold's command snapped Jo back to reality. She hastily stood, knocking against the table loudly. "After careful consideration of all the evidence, the Wizengamot and I have taken our vote and decided our ruling. Josephine Delacroix, you have been found not-guilty of all charges. Along with the clearing of your charges, I, Millicent Bagnold, Minister of Magic, grant you, Josephine Delacroix, legal guardianship of Harry James Potter. He is now, and shall remain, under the guardianship and protection of the Delacroix household. This is our final ruling." Jo could only watch as the gavel struck the desk, her body empty of all the things she should be feeling.

Ruth stared at her client with worry, lightly touching her arm when the woman remained just staring blankly at the emptying juror stand. "Jo? We won."

"Yeah," Jo rasped, blinking when the familiar sting of tears suddenly hit her eyes. Shaking herself, she found Ruth smiling timidly up at her. Pulling her lips up slightly, she pulled the witch in for a brief hug. "You did it, kid. You beat _the_ Albus Dumbledore. You'll have all the big cases banging down your door now."

"Oh, Rowena, I hope not." She actually paled causing Jo to rasp out a laugh. "Besides, it was really all your work that got us through…"

"No. You're going to be an excellent legal-witch. Trust me, I saw what you were pulling out there. Grade-A badass is what you were."

They laughed, but it felt hollow. All of it felt hollow. It was a mock of a hearing. A mock of a victory. Jo couldn't help but wonder at what cost? What was to be her repayment?

What would he demand of her this time?


	20. Chapter 20 Gambit

**So, exciting news. As of right now, this story is going to be split into two-ish parts. The first going until the end of Harry's Second Year, a slight interval that we'll call Part 1.5, then the second will be Third year onward. Part One, which obviously we're in now, should be ending at Chapter 25. Which means, *Drum roll* only FIVE more chapters!**

 **Once again, a deep and heartfelt thanks to all those still along for the ride. You guys are awesome, and I really appreciate the continued support.**

 **As always,**

 **Enjoy**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 _ **"For a sane person to sincerely be happy that someone has succeeded, they have to either be profiting or likely to profit from that person's success, or be that person."-**_ **Mokokoma Mokhonoana**

* * *

 **Chapter 20**

 **Gambit**

 **June-July 1989**

* * *

"He just threw the case? No explanation or anything, just like that?" The question had come from William Schott, of all people. He and Katie looked equally perplexed, squished together on one chair. Across from them, Andromeda and Ted shared a concerned look, turning back to Jo who merely nodded. She leaned back in her chair, a mug of sparkling cider in hand, just staring blankly across the kitchen.

They were supposed to be having a celebratory party, for winning the hearing, but Jo was having a hard time working up the spirit. Ruth, the poor thing, was being drug along all through the house by the children. Her quiet protests had been drowned out by shouting and giggling. Although, Ravenclaw at heart, the young woman was deeply curious to see more of the wild house. Nymphadora, home for the summer, had tagged along happily. Her metamorphmagus skills had been greatly expanded on, and the younger children and Harry were amused to no-end by the animal faces and wild hair colors.

"Why do you think he did that? Doesn't seem to make much sense, does it." Katie continued the conversation, her head tilted as she tried to figure out the actions of the mysterious Headmaster. Jo mumbled an agreement. "This is a good thing, though, isn't it? Obviously, he's changed his mind about Harry staying here-"

"The question is why. What's his benefit in doing so?," Andromeda finished, her own face morphing into one of deep thought. Ted hummed from beside her, fingers fiddling with the handle on his own mug. Some minutes passed in silence as the table tried to think their way through Albus Dumbledore's web of plans. It was finally Ted who spoke up.

"Perhaps you should just ask him?" He looked optimistic and sincere, obviously finding this a logical thing to do.

"Because Dumbledore doesn't _do_ answers," Andromeda answered, voice flat and resigned. She, more than any of them, knew the type of games people like Albus Dumbledore played. Her entire childhood had been filled with grooming to stand toe-to-toe with such people.

Jo, however, thought the idea held a smidge of merit. "Perhaps I should. The fucking git can't ignore me forever, not if he wants anything to do with Harry." Tapping her fingers against the table, her mind tried to keep pace with the thoughts now running rampant, thoughts that had been circling since the verdict. "And _that_ is something Dumbledore wants. Why would he stick his fingers all over Harry's life if he didn't? Why even concern himself with the happenings of the kid if he didn't have specific plans for him?"

The other four were thrown off course by the sudden agitation of the ash-haired witch. Her face had scrunched, eyes squinting as she worried a lip. "And seeing as he so _graciously_ handed me guardianship of Harry, don't you think I have every _right_ to know what exactly those plans are?"

He might have thrown her for a loop, giving her exactly what she and Harry wanted. That was the whole point of it, wasn't it? Give the dogs a bone, and they'll stop whining and nipping at your heels. But Jo wasn't a dog. She wasn't that easily appeased. She just knows, deep in her gut, that this was his key bargain. He wanted her to think him kind, agreeable, an _ally_. He obviously thought very little of her and Harry if he believed this would be enough to earn their 'allegiance'. She had made that mistake before, and look where it landed her. She needed to know why, what had the man so concerned with her involvement with Harry? What would he expect of her now that he had forgone his original goal?

"Jo, I think this child is broken?" The adults turned to find Ruth, her arms laden down by a giggling, squirming, and hanging upside down Liam. His entire face was covered in melted chocolate.

"Oh _no_." William and Katie looked equal parts horrified and amused when Liam wrestled his way free to sprint across the room. "Who in Merlin's pants gave him that much chocolate?"

Poppy's burning pink ears flicked from the doorway, the elf peeking sheepishly through the vines.

"It be only a little chocolate, for the children."

* * *

Harry, Taffy happily glued to his side, followed Jo closely as they skirted the crowded streets. Witches and wizards filled the cobblestone road from shop to shop, multiple colored robes and many pointy hats decidedly marking the two as different in their muggle clothing. Jo had thrown her hair up, hidden slightly beneath a baseball cap. Harry had his own cap on, pulled low to hide his scar. Apparently, _everyone_ knew about it. Especially in Diagon Alley.

Jo kept a firm hold of his hand, avoiding huddles of children staring at brooms and gaggles of women cackling together. They were only here for one thing, and it was in the largest building in the alley. Stepping around yet another stopped group, Jo finally released a small breath of relief at the sight of the pristine stone stairs. "Well, there it is: Gringotts. Before we go in, I'm gonna warn ya, goblins are… _interesting_ creatures. They don't particularly like humans, but they _do_ like our money. They also like manners and respect." She sucked in a little breath, dismally recognizing she was the adult now and would have to actually interact with the stubborn and overly literal little creatures. "Probably should just let me do the talking," she sighed out, squaring her shoulders slightly before starting up the stairs.

Harry just nodded, wide eyes staring up at the looming bank. Gulping slightly, his free hand burying itself in Taffy's fur, he let Jo lead him inside. There was a guard at the door, eye-level with Harry and wearing a scarlet uniform. His beady eyes narrowed on the boy, eyes flickering between the two humans and dog at their side. The goblin, or at least Harry thought it was, sneered at them, showcasing sharp teeth. "Best not let your _pet_ have any accidents on our floor."

Harry looked properly affronted, Taffy's ears perking as she stared with an equally insulted face from his side. "Taffy is a lady. She would never."

Jo coughed, hiding a snort when the goblin turned his beady eyes on her. "She's a magic pup, better trained than your beast, I'd imagine." The goblin sneered, hurrying them through the doors with a glare. Harry threw her a funny look as they entered the second set of doors, but his eyes quickly wondered around the grandiose marble hall. The tall counters lining the walls were filled with dozens of goblins on high stools, busy-busy-busy as they were known to be. He and Taffy wandered slightly, intrigued by the scales weighing gold coins, silver coins, rubies and emeralds. The goblins paid him little attention, some even seemed slightly amused by the child and his curiosity. As long as he didn't touch anything he shouldn't, that is.

"Lady Delacroix," A small goblin, dressed in a suit similar to the guards, called from across the hall. Jo scrunched her nose at the title, but nodded Harry along, wrapping an arm securely around his shoulders once he was in range. The goblin nodded curtly, bowing them through a large wooden door with the name _**Rodkur**_ engraved to its side. This particular goblin, who sat high enough to stay on eye level with his clients, had been the Delacroix manager since before she had been born. She remembered him as a child, always bearing his teeth and flashing his bulky golden rings from behind his ridiculously large and ornate desk. She also distinctly remembered thinking he would eat her.

Rodkur had barely aged, only the salt and pepper to his beard giving any hint to the passage of time. When they entered the room, she could see his wide nostrils flare as he took a good sniff. An old goblin habit, always searching with their keen noses for the scents of precious metals and jewels. " _Lady_ Delacroix, my it has been some time."

"Rodkur, thank you for clearing time in your schedule for us. I was relieved to hear you would still over-see my family proceedings." Jo bowed her head only slightly, just as her mother would have done. _'Show respect, but do not let them believe you beneath them'_. The goblin grunted, returning an extremely shallow dip of his chin.

"It would be highly dishonorable to let any other goblin even peer at a Delacroix. Your accounts have always been under my _expert_ fingers, this is no different." He smiled slowly, showcasing those sharp teeth. "And you…you must be _The_ Harry Potter. How funny to find you in my office."

Harry wasn't sure he was even meant to answer that, so instead, he offered his own jerky head bow. Really, it was only a nod, but Jo bumped her knee against his gently, giving him a secret thumb up from her lap. Sighing slightly, he leaned back, letting his hand come to rest on Taffy's neck. Her ears were perked again, head tilted as she seemed to follow the conversation between Jo and the goblin.

"It's all straight forward, we only need to fill out the form and sign, then you would sign as witness and notarize it." Jo passed the long parchment across the desk for the goblin to peruse. He placed a pair of spectacles over the tip of his nose, holding the paper as far away as his arm could reach. "And then afterwards, I will be opening a student vault for Harry. He'll be needing it for Hogwarts soon enough." The goblin paused in his reading, beady eyes bouncing between the pair of humans for only a moment, then just as quickly returned to his reading. If they had no knowledge of the Potter vaults, it wasn't in his interest to inform them.

"And I am assuming you would like a copy of this made and placed in your vault?" Rodkur returned the parchment, and Jo nodded, mumbling a 'please' and 'thank you' when he also offered a quill. "Then I will leave you to complete your task. I must collect the forms and a new key for the boy's vault." Harry watched as the goblin's chair slowly lowered, leaving only the wispy hairs atop his wrinkled head visible as he circled the desk to leave. Jo quietly scribbled away, paying little attention even when the goblin's barking commands filtered through the closed door.

Harry excitedly leaned over, feeling much more at ease without the Goblin's presence. Today was a very special day for him and Jo, and he didn't want to miss one second of it, not even Jo's scribbling. The long piece of parchment, which she had already completed half of, came stamped in the top corner with bright golden wax fixed with the Ministry of Magic seal. In large bold ink, it was titled **'Acknowledgment Of Magical Guardianship And Adoption'** _ **.**_

Honestly, he didn't really need a piece of paper to tell him that he and Jo are family. His head knew that, but his stomach still felt jittery and fluttery all the same. No one could ever tell them differently, now. No one could ever take him away. Because now, for anyone to see, he would legally be Jo's family. Forever.

"Okay, so…one last part. I know we discussed this last night, but…" She peered at him from the corner of her eye, sliding the legal parchment and quill in front of him. "You write in whatever _you_ want it to be. This is your decision."

Harry smiled brightly, completely sure in what he wanted to put down. Clearing his throat dramatically, he read the line aloud. "…Henceforth, from this date until the end of time, Harry James Potter will legally be recognized as the…-" pausing, he carefully drew each letter of his new title, "… _ **child…**_ of Josephine Delacroix". The word came out rather sloppy, Harry being extremely unaccustomed to writing with a quill, but anyone who read it would know what it said. That's all that mattered. Smiling even brighter, he turned to Jo, finding her eyes crinkled and lips turned up in a wobbly sort of smile. He could tell she was trying very hard not to let him see her eyes misting over. She mumbled something, completely incomprehensible with how clogged her throat had become, and rested her forehead against his. He didn't have to hear the words to understand her 'I love you, kid'. Closing his own eyes, he hoped she could feel his own 'I love you' in return.

Sighing deeply, she just pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaning back. It appears she was a mother again, and that thought stung her eyes with a quiet joy and guilty sorrow. This was something she had never dreamed would happen again, she had never dared to even consider it. Back then, Lucy would be the only child she would ever call her's. There was never supposed to be another, yet here he was. Smiling so happily, so confidently, and she swore her heart nearly burst from it all. It was all an incredibly heady feeling, especially because….

Because he had _chosen_ her.

* * *

The finalization of the adoption brought a sense of peace to Jo that she couldn't quite describe. The fear of losing Harry to Dumbledore's meddling nearly disappeared, and with it, so did her rage. She didn't like him. She most certainly did not trust him.

But she couldn't hate him any longer. That burning sickening feeling had finally left her. In its place came resignation. She finally understood, that no matter how hard she fought him and spited him, he would never disappear. He would always be there, the 'leader', watching over her kid once Harry turned eleven. His investment in defeating Voldemort, no matter the cost, would always prevail over the feelings of one woman.

And she understood that. Perhaps that was the only reason she had been placed in Hufflepuff. Because, no matter the person,and no matter how vile or cruel or terribly they acted; she always found a way to understand. She could sympathize, see the situation from multiple perspectives, and sometimes, she could even empathize. Although, that grew harder the older she became. Empathy was a difficult emotion to retain after witnessing deplorable acts.

But she could always understand.

Though, understanding does not equate to agreement.

Josephine tapped her fingers to some forgotten song, her eyes never leaving the adolescent staged phoenix as it trilled and chirped from its perch. He puffed his feathers comically, singing away as if serenading her from the corner. Fawkes had always been an interest to her. He was a funny thing that never failed to bring a smile to her face.

"Ah, the song of young love. It would appear, even after all of these years, Fawkes still finds you most agreeable." Dumbledore appeared from the staircase that led to his personal rooms. Dressed head to toe in bright royal purple robes, a matching pointed hat nestled atop his silver head, the headmaster seemed to glide from the stairs to his desk. "Miss Delacroix, if I may say so, you look much better than our last encounter. I daresay, the stress of the trial weighed heavily upon my own mind. I can only imagine the toll it took on your own."

"Right…considering your little show-"

"If I may interrupt," he spoke gently, holding an aging hand up.

"No. I've come here to-"

"Miss Delacroix, please."

She exhaled sharply, snapping her mouth shut with a frown. This was not the Dumbledore she had faced in the hospital or the courtroom. This was a Dumbledore who more closely resembled the man heading a resistance in a war they were believing lost. This Dumbledore's eyes did not twinkle. He did not offer a kind smile. This Dumbledore looked sad. An old and weary soul with eyes that held the weight of many transgressions.

This Dumbledore said please.

"...Okay," she finally sighed out, reminding herself that she was not here to start a war. She was here to end one.

"Thank you." He took a moment to finally sit, steepling his fingers together as he stared somewhere over her head. His old eyes moved around the room, lips pulling lower and lower into a deep frown. The drawn out silence caused her fingers to continue the beat of that unknown song. Finally, he brought his gaze down to her own. "Before we discuss anything else, I must begin with a terribly overdue expression; I am deeply and humbly sorry for the pain I have caused you, Miss Delacroix. In the years long gone, and in these last few months, It seems I have done little else for you except to make everything incredibly difficult. There are no words to properly describe the loss I caused you."

"This is not something I would ever expect or fore-see receiving forgiveness for. Miss Delacroix, I have lived a long life. I've gained titles and renown fame that placed great responsibility on my shoulders. A responsibility I readily accepted, believing, rather arrogantly I admit, that I was the best option available. In that arrogance, I have-" Jo could barely believe her eyes and ears when he cut short, inhaling a shaky breath. His face had crumpled, grief and sadness overtaking the usual sharp and eccentric man she knew. "I have brought pain to many people in my mistakes. Especially to a young woman who had followed my advice, fighting for what was right, only to lose everything she called precious and dear. You paid the greatest price for a war that I had believed won. I have withheld this apology for far longer than could ever be acceptable."

Jo could only stare, numb and cold to the misty eyes pleading her for understanding. She already understood, though. She understood from the very second she had discovered her husband and daughter murdered. She understood all of it.

But she did not accept it.

She did not accept _this_ Dumbledore. She couldn't even appreciate the sentiment, it all felt so...

So false.

"You…you think I want an apology?," she whispered, her face hardening from the previous surprise. "You think, after everything, that I wish for you to apologize? Especially now?" Shaking her head, another sharp exhale escaping her as she brought her chin up to square herself directly within his gaze. "I did not blame you for my family's death, Dumbledore. I blamed you for your lack of humanity. You, the great leader of the light, a man I had been commanded to respect from the moment I could walk; you had thrown us to the slaughter. I finally saw, after that night, what you were. You were not a leader. You were a warmonger, so intent on righting the wrongs you had created, you had forgotten the value of life. _That_ is the crime I find you guilty of."

Through her harsh words, his face had solidified once again into _the_ Dumbledore. The Dumbledore who had turned a blind eye to the suffering of his few for the peace _he_ , not they, intended to create. The Dumbledore who had held all the cards, yet kept the aces hidden under his hat for none to see. The Dumbledore who would command his people to always look towards the light while allowing the dark seeds of hate and pure _brokenness_ to wrap around their souls. That was the Dumbledore she understood, not the guilt-ridden, apologetic mask of an old man he had pulled from his collection.

"You think so lowly of me?"

"Yes."

Silence descended over the pair, blue piercing blue as the atmosphere turned suffocating in the wake of her own truths. Dumbledore inspected the young woman, piecing together this new puzzle. How many pieces were the girl who grew within this castle? How many pieces were jagged cut-outs forced into the mold from the war? What pieces had she created in the years of seclusion? She was so familiar, so very similar to the girl turned soldier he had reigned in and molded, yet so very different. This was no longer a young adult, sitting on the sidelines while the 'real' adults told her what was right and wrong.

No, this was a woman. A woman who had bled, cried, laughed, grieved and lived a life of many in so few years. A girl that had been broken, piecing herself back together into a stronger and smarter new woman. This was a woman who would no longer blindly accept wisdom not created outside of her own mind. This was a woman who would challenge him at every step of the way, deciding for herself what was right or wrong.

"But," Jo began, releasing a soft breath to clear her tightening chest of the anger. "I don't want to be enemies. I know how this plays out. No matter what I do or say, you're still going to be here. You're going to be the one watching over my boy for seven years while I sit outside these walls." Her voice softened, the lines in her face disappearing as she gave Dumbledore what he could only describe as the worried eyes of a mother. "I have to depend on you to do your job, do you understand that? No matter how much I distrust you or want to distance myself, I am forced to remain here. I am forced to, once again, leave my most precious treasure in this world in your damned hands. How do you expect me to do that while you sit here, withholding secrets and plots that could leave me in the same position you claim such grief for causing?"

"I only wish to do what is best for the boy, you must understand that, Josephine. He is precious to more than just you." His own words were soft, but they were not kind. They were a reminder that, once again, his vision for the future was greater than her demand for his understanding.

"Then we've come to a cross in the road. I wish for Harry to be safe and happy. How can you look me in the eyes and tell me 'no'? How can you, great fucking leader of the light, expect me to understand that my boy cannot even have that, after everything our war took from him?" She couldn't sit here any longer, her veins burning with a rage she hadn't felt in a long time. Fawkes trilled from his perch, feathers ruffling anxiously as his familiar and the witch flooded the room with their negative emotions.

Running his fingers through from his chin to the end of his beard, Dumbledore remained seated, watching as Josephine paced his office. Her magic had sparked with her anger, tangible shock waves rocking gently against his skin. He had forgotten how _emotional_ the woman's magic had been. One of the few witches or wizards he had ever encountered that, even well into adulthood, had such a reactive cloak always wrapped around their skin.

"I believe you remember the war quite well, don't you Josephine? Even after all these years of trying to…forget. I find myself incapable of believing anyone who had lived during that time could forget the darkness that fell over our society." She had stopped pacing, leaning against the wall to listen, sharp eyes flickering between the Headmaster and his many trinkets. "The day Voldemort vanished, I began discretely searching for any signs of his being alive. Even to this day, I search and listen for even the smallest sign of his evil still remaining in this world. Would you like to know what I've discovered?"

She didn't respond, only staring as Dumbledore finally stood from his desk. He trailed his fingers over the spines of the many books lining his shelves, stopping near the very end. He pulled an ancient, crumbling tome from the shelf. With great care, he placed it on the desk and opened it to the bookmarked page.

"I have heard whispers, always trailing whatever dark specter or unusual circumstances, never finding the culprit. Switzerland, Slovenia, Austria, Germany, Poland, Ukraine; a shadowy journey leading far from Britain. I know what you're thinking, that this could all be circumstance, tall tales that only a fool would follow for so long. Yet, I am drawn back to this passage, and I cannot accept his 'death'." With a gentlemanly wave and bow of his head, he indicated for her to read the words with her own eyes.

' _ **Scutum et mater est**_

 _ **The Mother's Shield is an ancient spell with an origin cloaked in rumors. It is a spell only used in the most dire of circumstances, and rarely achievable due to the complicated stipulations that must be in place. Commonly, our research has found that every successful use of the spell always followed the unintended death of the 'Mother', or in some cases, the protector or guardian of the intended victim. The caster, to successfully place the protection upon the intended victim, must be willing to sacrifice themselves wholly and completely without regret. Once the protection is cast, it will remain in the very blood of the intended victim until the threat has been eradicated completely….'**_

"Do you understand, now? Our world is still threatened, _Harry_ is still threatened. We had only delayed the war, Josephine. One day, it could be tomorrow or ten years from now, Voldemort will return. Harry must be prepared." Those sharp blue eyes searched her face, her soul, looking for any sign that she accepted his words. That she understood.

"And what will you have an eight year old boy do, Dumbledore? Or perhaps, eleven? Twelve? Thirteen? Is he going to win this fucking war while out for a butterbeer in Hogsmeade? Or do you expect for him to lose out on experiencing life because of a threat we can't even find? How do you plan to prepare a _child_ for war?"

The portraits, which had remained surprisingly silent since the moment she stepped foot inside the office, had begun whispering to one another.

" _War? There is to be another War?"_

" _Dumbledore will lead them to victory again."_

" _The old cod couldn't stop him before-"_

" _A_ _ **baby**_ _did that Voldemort in."_

" _What of the children? We've had so few since the last war. We've only just seen more in the past two years."_

"Once again, I must ask, you think so lowly of me? You believe me to create a soldier out of a child? To place him in front of my enemy like a shield?" He spoke quietly, causing all of the portraits to shut their mouths and lean in to hear. "I placed the boy in the safest place I could, under the protection his mother granted him with her sacrifice. I intended for him to grow within the muggle world, experiencing a normal childhood without every witch and wizard stopping him in the street. Even you, Josephine, did not know who he was when you first met."

Scoffing, Jo stepped away to put distance between herself and the man sitting so easily behind his desk. "You placed him in a home full of hate, how is that a 'normal childhood'? Merlin, Dumbledore, this-" She suddenly cut off, inhaling deeply as she stared at the man incredulously. She took a moment, just a few brief seconds to really look at the man. He looked both fierce and gentle, his eyes sharp and demanding while his face softened in pleading. He wanted so desperately for her to agree, to show she understood and accepted everything. "You really don't get it, do you?" She felt something strange then, smiling slightly at the surprised Headmaster. She felt pity for the great and renown leader of the light for being so incapable of understanding. "That's not how this works. Harry is not _yours_ , Dumbledore. He was never yours, and he never will be."

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair, watching her closely with those fierce eyes of his. "I know what you're doing, what you thought would happen. Perhaps it would have worked if I had been anyone else. I've figured it out now, why you did it. I couldn't at first, you know. I thought about it incessantly for days after the verdict, but up until this moment, I really didn't know. You didn't want him left vulnerable, what with every head of the counsel knowing exactly why we had gone to court. Initially, you had truly wanted him away from me, but you figured it out somehow. That I moved Lily's protection. You didn't have anywhere else to put him then, did you?"

He smiled but it was neither kind nor gentle. It was the smile of a man who still thought himself smarter than her, conceited and righteous. "That was a rather ingenious tactic you pulled, I must admit."

"Oh, I wasn't done." He waved her on, still smiling easily. "You didn't want me as an enemy. Not because of my name or magic. You didn't want me to corrupt Harry against you, and well, if this war comes about like you believe, you'll need all the soldiers you can find. What's that saying, you can only catch a niffler with gold not bronze? You thought just giving us that little victory, our gold coin, you'd have us, is that right?" Humming, she tapped her fingers twice on the desk. "But you've forgotten something, Dumbledore. Something I think crucial to this little set-up of yours."

"And what would that be, Miss Delacroix?" He was amused by her, playing along easily to her spectacle.

"What house was I placed in?" The portraits were murmuring, watching the exchange like an exciting tennis match. "I'm a Hufflepuff, not a Gryffindor or a Slytherin. We can't be bribed with promises of grandeur. You can't bargain for my co-operation. You see, you always looked over our house, didn't you? It's alright, everyone seems to make that mistake. It's funny actually, because if you had ever paid even an ounce of attention, you would realize what makes up a Hufflepuff, and even more so, a Delacroix."

"We protect our family, we fight for our family, and nothing can dissuade us. Not even the great Dumbledore." There was that energy again, a current of extreme dissatisfaction and dislike between the two. He was no longer smiling in amusement, he was looking at her as if he was truly seeing the woman before him. A twinkle entered his eyes, and Jo knew it was time to end this discussion.

"Frankly, I could care less for your explanations and apologies. I don't particularly care if you ever understand why I find you so terrible. I'm here to make sure you understand that Harry is not yours. You can't just hold his life within your hands to do with as you please. I want _my_ boy to be safe. How can you fucking sit here and not immediately answer 'Of course I will keep a child safe'?" Her voice strained, she tried so hard to keep from pleading, but it still found its way into her words.

"I do intend to keep him safe. From the moment Harry steps foot inside the castle, it will be his home, and he will be safe." He answered without hesitation, wrinkled hands held towards her in appeasement. "No matter your opinion of me, I hope, at the very least, you will leave today with the knowledge that Harry's well being and safety are of the utmost importance."

She leveled him with a challenging scrutinizing gaze, slowly extending her hand across the desk. "Promise me, Dumbledore. Promise me you will keep Harry safe."

He looked amused by her again, silver eyebrows rising at her offer of a hand to shake. "A promise? I would expect a vow on my magic."

Eyes turning far away with a memory she _hoped_ he could see, she found herself repeating words whispered to her in the dead of night from years long past. "Someone once told me, 'only a truly great man can keep his word without stipulation'. Perhaps, I'm giving you a second chance to redeem yourself." His hand, smooth and warm, gently met hers over his desk. She truly hoped that Dumbledore was looking inside her head, that he could see coffee colored eyes and that jagged tooth, always prominent when her husband would speak or smile. She wanted him to see and remember the face of the man they had failed.

"I promise." He didn't release her hand, instead placing his other hand across the back of it. "And when the war comes, how do you intend to protect him? When Voldemort comes for the boy again, do you also intend to die shielding him?" For the fist time today, Jo found his eyes truly kind, sincerely staring at her with concern and perhaps a touch of pity. "Harry will be protected, but for only so long. You know this as well as I. When that day comes, what will you do?"

She pulled her hand free gently, lips curling up slightly. "Then I'll fight, right beside my boy. He won't be alone, ever again."

Dumbledore smiled, but he found himself thinking her naive. War, the dark uncertainty and cruelty it wrought, could not be so simply answered. Josephine had proven herself a strong person, but she was riddled with flaws. A human who made human mistakes. Could she truly live and persevere through yet another threat upon her family?

"I know what you're thinking." She chuckled quietly without humor, eyes sad but smiling gently. "Harry will be ready, I won't leave him powerless and reliant on everyone around him. But he needs _life_. He needs friendship and joy, laughter and tears, first crushes and sneaking out after dark. He can't have that if we weigh him down with the darkness of our failure. I will train him and we'll be ready, but before that, we'll stuff all the living we can into our hearts. That's my promise to you."

Long after their meeting had concluded, Dumbledore remained seated behind his desk, eyes on the horizon as the sun set on the other side of his window. His meeting with Josephine Delacroix had gone in many directions, and he couldn't be sure if it had gone in his favor or not. She had come with the intention of questioning his motives for throwing the case, but they had derailed spectacularly. Honestly, the Headmaster was left reeling as he considered his next steps.

Initially, he _had_ planned on completely removing Harry Potter from her care. It had been in the better interest of the boy and himself. He had thought it would be easily resolved when Josephine lost her magic. The Wizengamot would never leave the 'Savior' without protection, which his Aunt could provide simply with the blood in her veins.

But that had vanished. He could have easily reversed their memories, but he could not replace the protection Lily Potter had created. Then they had gone to court, and there was Josephine, the faint traces of Lily Potter's magic humming beneath her skin. It was at that moment that Dumbledore had truly understood the lengths to which Josephine would go to protect the boy. Hadn't that been his gambit, though, her stubborn and unyielding loyalty?

From the beginning, the meeting of Harry Potter and Josephine Delacroix had been both fortunate and unfortunate for the Headmaster. Her love for the boy had been an unexpected gift, a string he could pull to request her strength in the future. Without their meeting, he would have never known of her even remaining on the continent. However, It was also Harry's love for the woman and the feeling of family she offered that had set all of his careful preparations ablaze. How could he take the boy from a mundane life that did not appreciate him, and introduce him into a world of magic and wonder that he would truly belong? His loyalty would have been with Dumbledore and the good people who cared for him.

 _Now?_

Now, Dumbledore was left with new pieces to connect, a new picture of the future he had not anticipated. He would have to include a family instead of one boy, and he had to find a way to ensure _this_ family survived. Even if she did not believe him, Dumbledore was filled with great regret. His entire life seemed chalk full of many instances of regret and deep sadness. She would never understand, and he was grateful for this. He would never wish his position upon a single soul. To lead, to create a better world, to save the many; they all required many horribly incomprehensible sacrifices that he would carry within his soul even into the next life.

If only to atone for the transgressions he had committed against these two souls, he _would_ create a plan that ensured their greatest outcome.

* * *

" _31 October 1981, The fall of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, a time of peace and regaining of society. It has been eight years since that fateful night. For many families, it was a great time of reunion; family members who had fled the violence returning home. For many, it was a time of mourning, for those who did not live to see peace restored. Yet, during our years of rebirth, the restructuring of our society and government; someone was missing. It was a mystery, her name was never recorded as deceased or missing in action. Her address remained unchanged. Her bank vaults open and in use. Yet where was this individual?_

 _Josephine Delacroix, the only remaining member of the Delacroix line. Yes, readers,_ _ **THE**_ _Delacroix line. Britain's oldest, most prominent and influential bloodline. It seems, after some serious investigating for this reporter, that she had simply never left. Yes, Miss Josephine Delacroix, who has not taken the title as head of household, has been holed away for eight long years right under all of our noses._

 _4 June 1989, the reclusive witch re-entered the public. Why, might you ask? To oppose Headmaster Albus Dumbledore in a hearing before the Wizengamot. Many witches and wizards witnessed the two exchanging a nod in greeting within the Ministry Atrium. Later, more witnesses claim seeing both Headmaster Dumbledore and Miss Delacroix entering courtroom six. They entered through separate doors, as is customary of opposing parties so to avoid conflict outside of the courtroom._

 _Why would The great leader of the light, Albus Dumbledore, and Josephine Delacroix, a known supporter of his, clash against one another in the courtroom?_

 _Unfortunately, even this Reporter couldn't sniff it out. The hearing records, curiously, had been sealed away from the public. Only a docket, show casing Albus Dumbledore versing Josephine Delacroix can be seen. Speculation has run rampant, and the public is concerned._

 _The next question this reporter could ask is, should the public be concerned?_

 _What exactly is Miss Delacroix planning?" -_ _ **N. Greenbalm, The Daily Prophet**_

" _THE DELACROIX LINE: DYING OR REBORN?!" -_ _ **Cecilia Dunham,The Observant Witch**_

" _Delacroix, South American Industry Queen!"_ _ **-Elaine Einhorn, Magic Musings**_

" _Dela-TROUBLE: The fallen family!"_ _ **\- George Whitt, The Little Word**_

"Oh, listen to this one." Jo muttered, squinting at yet another newspaper that had been delivered this morning. Taking a long, scalding mouthful of coffee, she began to read aloud. "…'Delacroix hasn't been quite as absent as the public believes. According to one informant, who wishes to remain anonymous, they had this to say about the mysterious witch. ''Well, of course I know Jo. She comes every week to our AA meetings. Coming up on one year sober, actually.'' (For those who do not know, AA is an acronym for Alcoholics Anonymous). Obviously, Delacroix has had it rough these last years, turning from society to the bottle. Perhaps it wasn't a case of being a recluse, but more a deep seeded need for inhibition'." Snorting to herself, Jo folded the paper up and added it to the ever growing pile. "Well, at least they got it partially right. The last one speculated I had run to America, spending the last eight years running a rather successful casino? Ah, fucking reporters." Snorting again, she could only shake her head, beginning to seriously regret not wearing a disguise to the ministry.

"Poppy be thinking Mistress should stop reading the newspapers. They be filled with nothing but disgusting rumor." Poppy sniffed, folding another dish towel onto the counter. A pile of the towels was steadily growing beside her, well over head now. Her little hands needed something to do, anything really. The poor elf was irritated and anxious.

"Eh, it's alright. Can't say I'm overly surprised." Poppy glared from the corner of her eye at her mistress, her long nose scrunching with distaste for the Wizarding news. "Okay, granted I hadn't expected all of _this,_ but it's…"

"It be a pile of rubbish," Poppy squeaked. "Mistress should be angry, not giggling into her coffee. These news people be disrespectful of my Mistress." The house elf huffed and puffed, finally giving up on her folding to aggressively snap the towels away to a drawer. Jo only snorted out a laugh again, smiling fondly down on the steaming little elf. "It not be funny, Mistress!"

Jo smartly kept her mouth shut, turning back to her coffee and a story about the raising prices for aquatic potion ingredients. After a few moments, the elf finally released a long cleansing breath, picking a crumb from her bright yellow dress.

"It's a little funny," Jo mumbled, hiding her smirk behind the paper.

"Mistress," Poppy groaned in exasperation. Her Mistress had too much of her father in her, at times.

* * *

Harry and Jo sat under the shade of a tree, pamphlets and a map spread out around them. The eight, nearly nine, year old boy was trying to decide between two pamphlets in his hand. One for the zoo, the other for a small amusement park near the coast. He was rather stuck, seeing as he had never done this before. Planning a birthday party, that is. More so, a birthday party for himself.

"Decided yet?," Jo asked, trying to suppress an insistent yawn. The warm sun and gentle breeze was lulling her right into a nap on the grass. "They're both about the same distance and muggle, so either option should be fine."

"I know," Harry mumbled, turning his head back and forth. _He just couldn't decide_. "They both sound excellent…I'm just not sure which one. I've never done this before, you know?" Reaching up to rub his forehead, he scowled thunderously when his hand bumped his glasses into the bridge of his nose. Jo tried to hide her snort of amusement. She obviously hadn't been successful when Harry retaliated with a smack of a pamphlet against her arm.

"Sorry sorry, I know you're still getting used to them." Sighing out the last of her chuckles, she pulled herself into somewhat of a sitting position. "Tell you what, why don't we just flip a coin?"

"Flip a coin?"

"Yeah, Wizard for the park, Dragon for the zoo." She held up the galleon, sunlight catching on the gold. Harry thought on it for a moment before nodding. With an expert toss, the two watched as the coin flipped a few times before falling back to Jo's awaiting hand. Without glancing, she instantly tossed it over onto the back of her opposite hand. "Ready?"

"Ready."

She held it out to him, slowly pulling away her hand to reveal the coin underneath. Merlin stared back at them. "Amusement park it is!," Harry exclaimed brightly, waving the pamphlet back and forth.

Once they had returned home, Jo and Poppy got to work writing out invitations. Two would have to be delivered by muggle means, and neither the witch nor elf knew exactly how long that would take. Either way, before the sun had even set, all the invitations were en route to their destinations. Jo had herself an excited little boy, anxious and nervous for his very first birthday party, but also extremely pleased with it all.

* * *

"Oh, please tell me that's a fucking joke." Jo groaned when Katie just shrugged, offering her own irritated frown with the news she had just delivered. The two were sat on a park bench, keeping lazy eyes on the children playing with a small group of muggles. Shaking her head, Jo continued to grumble, accepting the bowl of Liam's crackers that Katie kept on hand.

"Wish I could, but that's what Arthur said. Says Molly's right upset, doesn't want the kids anywhere near you. It's curious, really. She seemed so happy to have you around, especially with Harry and all." Katie frowned again, shouting to Madison to watch out for Liam who was attempting to climb a pile of large rocks.

Molly Weasley, who had returned the invitation for Harry's party unopened, apparently found Jo quite disagreeable after the news articles. Jo wasn't sure if it was because of the hearing against Dumbledore or her now public status as an alcoholic. Whatever the case, the mother of eight wanted to cut ties, and keep her children far from Jo's terrible influence.

"I'm gonna write her. Try to get her to come around. Harry will be crushed if he loses Ron." Honestly, she'd rather leave sleeping dogs lie, insulted by the woman's reaction without even speaking with her first. Except, it wasn't just her in this situation. She'd extend an olive branch for the sake of his friendship with the youngest Weasley boy. It was on Molly to accept, though.

"And if she returns that one?" Jo just shrugged, drumming her fingers against the bench.

"Guess I could just show up, make her talk to me face-to-face."

"Right, I'm sure she'd deeply appreciate it."

"Shut-up. I'm not good at this, stop acting like I know how to properly deal with others." Katie actually laughed at her, rolling her eyes and all. "Merlin, shut-up, you bint."

"You really do need to be socialized like a puppy. Oh, Helga, Jo! You're an adult, you should be able to play well with others by now." She laughed again when Jo began to pout, refusing to look at her. "Just write the letter, you pillock. Either she responds or she doesn't, you can't force her."

"I know that," Jo sighed, finally returning the bowl of crackers. "I just don't want Harry to suffer because of me."

"I know, but that's the tough part of parenting. If another mum doesn't like you, there isn't much you can do unless they're willing to put it aside for the children." The blonde witch offered a gentle smile, nudging her friend. "She's a veteran to this parenting thing, I bet she'll come around once she's calmed down."

Wrinkling her nose, Jo gave her friend a once over from the corner of her eye. "When did you get so mature? What happened to the girl that filled an entire bag with owl droppings just to lob it at Patricia Goodings for calling your shoes ugly?"

"Oh, she's still in here. Just buried deep deep down, emergency use only. Can't give those kids too many ideas, they outnumber me now." Jo busted out laughing, turning to watch the children as they ran to-and-fro in some version of tag. Katie chuckled along, watching her friend transform back into the teenager of years past for only a moment. _She's still in there, buried deep inside you too._

* * *

July thirty-first arrived quicker than the now nine year old expected. Bouncing on his toes, he couldn't stop from squirming as he waited for Jo to finish getting dressed. She had looked dead on her feet this morning, apologizing when he'd reminded her for the fifth time they had to get going. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Some of us aren't full of never ending energy, you know." She smirked at him, _finally_ emerging from her bathroom dressed and ready to go.

"I know, I just don't wan to be late. Lenny and Abigail are going to be there by noon, and I don't know when the others will be, but I want to beat them there." Harry ruffled his hair, leading the way quickly through the house. "Abigail told me she's never been to an amusement park, which neither have I, so I promised we could try everything. I don't want us to miss anything!"

Jo followed at a slower pace, summoning the to-go coffee Poppy had prepared when they passed the kitchen. Her magic reacted easily, the cup sailing without hesitation or any wobbling directly into her waiting hand. She still held her breath when she cast even the simplest of spells, nervous it might not work…or possibly blow up in her face. Thankfully, she'd been cleared to apparate at her previous appointment with the healers, and she'd spent the past week practicing. She'd damn well hate herself if she accidentally splinched either Harry or herself on his _birthday_.

" _Jo_ ," Harry called, _whined_ , from the opposite side of the grand hall. "C'mooon."

Even though he'd argue it, they made it to the park well before any of his friends. Abigail and Lenny both arrived, their mothers exchanging quick pleasantries with Jo before agreeing to pick their children up at six. Abigail's poor mother looked extremely relieved to not stick around, deep circles under her eyes and her hair pulled into a hasty bun, as her infant son wailed from the back seat. "Teething. I've tried everything!"

Next to appear was Nymphadora Tonks, Ted cheerfully tagging along. "Oh, Andy absolutely detests these places. I forced her along once when we were dating," he informed her with a bright smile, already eyeing the only full-scale roller coaster in the park. Jo had a feeling she'd be forced on it, seeing as Nymphadora had her own companion to bother in the form of one Charlie Weasley.

"Hullo! Sorry we're late, Fred and George had to clean up the entire kitchen after blowing up the bin of potatoes." Jo had to cough over her laughter, trying hard not show her surprise at their attending the party, sans Molly. The twins gave her equally devilish smirks. Ginny and Ron had their faces pressed against the park's fence, Harry and his muggle friends explaining the different games and rides to them.

"I don't know if you remember me, but I-" Charlie blushed from his neck to his ears, smiling brightly when she interrupted him.

"How could I forget the only kid I've ever met who could tell me damn near every breed of dragon? How've you been, Charlie?" Merlin, he was eye level with her now, a squaring chin and broad shoulders making him look suspiciously like an adult. She'd missed out on everyone growing up.

"Great! I'll be starting my sixth year, and I just got a job for the summer. I'm a hand-keep at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. I only clean and feed the animals, but I like it a lot. Even met a few dragon tamers the other day, from Romania." He was still smiling brightly, looking a bit like the little boy from her memories. "W-what are you doing now? Dad said you've left the shop closed. I peaked in the windows of it on my break the other day, everything looks exactly the same."

"Oh, yeah…maybe one day? I've not really been doing anything, actually. Pretty boring in my old age," she chuckled, giving him a shrug. "But it sounds like you're doing really good. Have you gotten your O.W.L. grades yet? Any ideas on what you'll be doing once you're done at school?"

She listened happily as Charlie launched into an excited explanation of how he'd gotten to talking to those dragon tamers about how exactly he could become one. He had a back-up plan, a position on a magical beast reserve, apprenticing. Soon enough, she was saved from his budding questions about her life by the arrival of the Schotts.

"Sorry, Charlie, looks like it's time to go in. I've got to go buy all the tickets." He didn't look overly dejected by her interruption, attention quickly turning to Nymphadora when the girl jumped on his back with a high pitched roar. Sighing out a chuckle, she and Katie approached the ticket booth with Arthur hanging over their shoulder to excitedly watch the transaction. Once their fairly large group had been admitted into the park, Jo gathered all of the children to properly split them with a supervising 'adult'.

"Right, so anyone that wants to go on rides, you'll be with Ted and I. Arthur, I think you and William should keep to the games and tricks area." William nodded along enthusiastically, looking rather green around the gills as a high pitched shriek echoed down from the rumbling coaster ahead. "Katie…"

She paused, noticing her friend looking equally as green as her husband. "I'll take Liam and Becca to the kiddy area." The blonde gave her a wide-eyed stare that Jo hadn't a clue of its meaning.

"Well, what first then? George and I were hoping to see the magic man-"

"The sign says he has loads of tricks-"

"Harry, do ya want to go on the tea-cups?"

"The ones spinning around? I thought they had food here?"

It took some time before the children could decide what each of them wanted to do, but the day finally began, each child to an adult as they each set out for their corresponding areas. Arthur and William ended up with the twins and Lenny. Jo and Ted had Harry, Ron, Madison and Abigail. Ginny had, unexpectedly, gone along with Katie. Apparently, her and Madison were not on speaking terms today, though Jo thought whatever they were angry about would dissipate before the day was over. The teenagers were left to their own devices, disappearing as far from the group as quickly as they could.

"Oh, Harry, you're going to love this!" Ted was enthusiastically pumping up the children, jumping a bit on his toes in his own excitement. The ash haired witch tried not to sigh. Roller coasters weren't exactly her favorite, but she had promised Harry to ride at least one. She just hadn't expected it to be the largest one in the park: _The Highway To Hell_.

The poor teenage boy just doing his job gulped at the glare she leveled on him when he finished locking the bar into place. In the _front_ car. "E-enjoy the ride, ma'am!"

Ted laughed beside her, ridiculously happy by his luck at getting the front car. "You're going to love this, Josephine! It's the fastest coaster in Britain!"

That, _surprisingly_ , did not make her feel better. Her hands quickly found the metal bar, gripping on for dear life when the wooden train of cars began creaking forward. Breathing deeply through her nose, eyes forced wide open so she would at least know what had caused her imminent death, she watched as they slowly began to ascend the looming hill. The children behind them were either excitedly jumping and cheering or gripping their own bars in silent dread, she could hear Harry directly behind her whooping loudly with Abigail.

And then they fell, faster than any broom she had ever ridden. Hard right, spiraling down. Hard right again. Rabbit hills. Another hill that veered left. Fast, faster, and even faster they went, wooden track flying under their cars at a terrifying rate. The children were screaming, and so was Ted. Jo couldn't even breathe nonetheless scream, her entire body coiled as tightly as physically possible as she just clung on with everything she was worth.

Her legs shook like jelly, stomach flipped completely inside out, and heart still in her throat as she hurried far from the torture device. Nope, she definitely did not like roller coasters. "I'm going…to check…on Katie."

"Aw, you'll miss out on _The Death Plunge_." Ted looked very sad for her luck, pouting when she only backed away.

"That's _really_ fine. Have fun, though, keep an eye on the kids." Harry was snickering with the other children. She gave him a playful glare before reaching out to ruffle his hair, lips pulling up into a smirk. "Go have fun, you got your one ride outta me. I'll see you all in a bit." She watched the group trot off, giving a little wave as they excitedly shouted about the next coaster. Sighing, she dropped onto an unoccupied bench for a breather. Once her stomach flipped itself right way out, she'd go find Katie. The Kiddy area sounded much more peaceful.

"Happy Birthday to youuuuu!"

Harry could feel his cheeks heating with embarrassment as everyone watched him blow the candle out, but it did nothing to dim the brilliant smile. Everyone sat around the park table, excitedly talking to one another as Jo and Katie handled the cake cutting. All of his family and friends seemed very happy and properly tired from their day full of sun and excitement, and that made Harry happier than anything else, really.

The twins apparently had taken a great liking to Lenny, regaling him with great tales of a mythical place called 'Hogwarts'. Lenny in turn had been trying, for the better part of the day, to properly explain Star Wars to the funny redheads. As Jo had predicted, Madison and Ginny were laughing together, row clearly forgotten. Although, Madison had found herself not overly fond of Nymphadora, leaving her to glare at the oblivious teenager at the most random of times. The metamorphmagus had the time of her life, and pestering one Charlie Weasley with the most ridiculous jokes and arguments had made it truly worth it. Charlie found himself more than ready for bed, exhausted from being drug all over the park, _twice_ , by the energetic hufflepuff. Ron and Abigail liked each other well enough, at least in Harry's opinion. However, when his back was turned, the two had taken to glaring venomously at one another and basically competing to see who could hold Harry's attention the longest.

The adults, well they were bloody _tired_. Arthur had gone and gotten himself a sunburn, even after using something called Sun-shield that William had on hand. Thankfully, none of his children had suffered the same, or else he truly feared Molly's reaction. She was already displeased with him for bringing the children to the party. William and Katie were taking turns dozing off between keeping Liam from stuffing himself full of birthday cake. Jo and Ted were the only two who seemed perfectly content, laughing together over old memories. Although, if she were to be completely honest, Jo was more than ready to not see or speak to another human being for at least a month after today.

Chuckling quietly as Ted told her all about Andromeda's threat to never speak to him again if he ever brought her to another amusement park, Jo took a moment to survey their little table. Harry and his friends were fighting off their exhaustion like champs, yawning in between jokes and laughter. She hoped today had been everything he wanted. They'd had a rough few months, and he really deserved a splendid birthday.

Her attention was caught by a young muggle woman, sitting alone at the next table over. Excusing herself from Ted, she ventured over to the woman, talking quietly. The young woman perked up instantly, smiling and nodding.

"Alright, before we head out, I need everyone to gather round," Jo called the group to attention, handing the muggle woman her camera. Poor thing looked confused by the antique thing, but shrugged, holding it up to her eye as the birthday party grouped together around Harry.

"Okay, on the count of three, everyone say cheese! One…two…three," the young woman quickly hit the shutter as a mostly confused chorus of 'Cheese?' rose from the group. Handing the camera back, she couldn't help but blush when the young redheaded man gave her roguish smile and winked at her. Although, the teenage girl beside him truly freaked her out when, for just a moment, she was sure the girl's hair had changed from bright purple to a fiery red. Eyes wide, the poor woman quickly turned away, seriously considering if she was dehydrated.

* * *

"So."

"So?" Harry gave her a cheeky little grin, watching along with her as Abigail's mother began to drive away. Smirking, Jo gave him an easy cuff around the head before tugging him close.

"Good birthday?"

That cheeky grin grew into a brilliant smile, his lanky arms snaking around her in a tight hug. "The best, thank you."

Leaning down to properly squeeze him back, she dropped a kiss to the top of his head. "Happy Birthday, kid."


	21. Chapter 21 Life

**Just a quick little blurb. First, I am so sorry for the delay in updates. This chapter and I had some trouble, but we made it! Second, we are...knocking on some new doors here. If this chapter throws any of you off, please please please stick around. I swear I've got a plan that isn't completely batshit crazy or mary/gary sue. Third, a gigantic thank you for the continued support. You are all so awesome, and I'm so grateful for it.**

 **As always,**

 **Enjoy**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 _ **"Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us."**_ **Brian Jacques, _Taggerung_**

* * *

 **Chapter 21**

 **Life**

 **August 1989**

* * *

 _Ugh_.

Monday.

Such a drag of a day.

Judy Wood sighed deeply, flicking a piece of crumpled parchment through her decorative quidditch goal posts, a late birthday gift from her kid brother. She was just _so_ bored. When she had taken this position, a 'promotion' from her previous job in the mail room, she'd been under the impression she'd actually be _doing_ something. The Meta-physical ward was supposed to see some of the most interesting cases in St. Mungo's.

Yet all she did was schedule appointments.

'Ten O'clock, on the Third. Yes, Miss Swan, Healer Wolff will be on time.'

'Healer Wolff is running a bit late today, Mr. Caldwell. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience.'

'You have to reschedule? Our only opening is three weeks out, will that be alright? O-of course, Mrs. Longbottom, I'll check for a closer date.'

"So lame," she muttered, fighting off yet another yawn. She should have taken her friend's advice and gone for the job in that muggle pub. At least then, she'd have some interesting things to talk about. Ripping another corner from the appointment log for today, she rolled it, and lined the little ball up for another score through the hoops.

" **MMMRRRRAOOOOOO"**

"Miss Delacroix!"

Judy wasn't even granted a second to actually wonder about the cacophonous clip-clopping echoing from within the office on the other side of the wall. A shriek of surprise tore from her lips when the door was smashed to bits beside her desk. "Mmmrrrrooo."

The bull-A Freaking **Bull!** \- huffed from its trapped position, head having smashed a hole through the wooden door. "O-oh." Its soft brown ears flipped to-and-fro in irritation as it struggled with its predicament. Heaving great huffs and puffs, the bull shook its head in clear distress. Great long horns gouged the walls, plaster and paint crumbling to the floor. Gobsmacked, Judy held her breath when wide brown eyes zeroed in on her angrily, a snort of rage flaring at its nostrils. Then, it was gone, one of Healer Wolff's books falling to the floor with a quiet thump.

"Are we done now?" Judy gulped, wide eyes catching sight of Miss Delacroix through the hole in the door. Her bright blue eyes squinted through the splintered hole, an awkward smile tugging at her lips when she saw the secretary gaping back. "My bad." Then she waved her left hand, wand flick neat and precise, and the door was good as new. Only the book, _**Finding The Core Of The Core,**_ remained as the only evidence that anything extraordinary had even occurred.

* * *

"Childish." He paced a few steps before abruptly turning.

"Ungrateful." Turning the opposite direction, he once again took two steps.

"Selfish." He'd started pointing now, face reddening in the wake of his growing anger.

Healer Wolff took another step before stopping, whirling around with another stern accusatory jab of his finger. "Reckless."

Jo let him go, knowing full well she deserved it, just a bit, for that stunt she had pulled. It was rather immature, she could admit it. Although, in her defense, she had proven her point exquisitely.

"Stubborn." He paused once again, a thoughtful look overtaking his irritation. "Impressive."

"Thank you." She coughed, scratching at a pesky itch on her neck from the test node pulling at her skin. "It was pretty good, wasn't it?"

"Arrogant!" Sighing, she once again found herself a victim to his pointing. "Vhat-" She knew he was ruffled when his accent truly bled through. "Were you thinking? This is a hospital, Miss Delacroix!"

She let out a little groan, really playing the part of an immature brat. "Because I'm damn tired of all these tests. You want me to turn a match into a needle. Right, done. A cockroach into an inkwell. Check. A book into a chair. Voila. I get it, but come on, I'm more than capable. _That_ didn't even affect me. My magic is nearly as strong as it ever was. I'm using it for even the most insignificant tasks, all day, every day." Sighing, she tugged at one of the many testing nodes he had stuck all over her skin. "You can see it, my core is _fine_."

"You should be taking it _slowly_ -"

"I'm taking it as 'slowly' as my body can handle-"

"You're going to injure yourself-"

"I haven't yet."

Healer Wolff had begun to turn red again, those manically large eyes widening sickeningly more so as he glared from the other side of the room. "And what will you do when your core finally has enough, eh? What then? You are advancing much faster than my calculations found to be healthy. Will you come crawling back to me, core quite possibly damaged beyond repair, expecting me to work some-some miracle?" He exhaled, the puff in his chest deflating. " _Nein_ , I vill not. You wish to kill yourself, and I will not assist you."

"Wait-"

" _Nein._ " With a flick of his wrist, the reader nodes ripped themselves from her skin, arranging in neat rows atop a medical tray. "This is where we part ways, Miss Delacroix. I hope to never see you in this office again, but only your arrogance will tell."

"Healer Wolff, wait." Jo hadn't meant for this to happen. Yes, she'd acted rashly, but she'd only wanted to prove her growth. She just needed him to see that he was working chapters behind her. "Please, I apologize."

"Thank you," he said, tone flippant and wand already flicking and swishing her right out of the room. "And goodbye, Miss Delacroix." Another flick, and the door was shut right in her face. Of course, she instantly tried the knob, unlocking charms falling from her lips to no avail.

"Shit." She let her forehead rest against the door, releasing a sharp exhale through her nose. "Fucking shit. Just had to go and be a gigantic arse, didn't you?" Sighing, she finally pulled away from the door, avoiding the curious eyes of the receptionist, to make her walk of shame to the lifts.

She'd like to be optimistic, to think that if she gave him some time, she could possibly grovel her way back, but even she knew when something was best left alone. Healer Wolff had taken her actions as a slight against his clearly higher understanding. Her gut was telling her this was a grudge that would be held for a long while.

" _Shit_." She really is an idiot. Sighing, she just pressed the down button, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her bed and pretend she wasn't such a massive _arrogant immature reckless_ cock.

"Well, good morning! If it isn't my favorite patient." Healer Nyaga, the embodiment of sunshine and cheer, smiled brightly at her from inside the lift. She couldn't even work up a fake smile, instead grimacing with a grumble of a response. "Ah, what has Healer Wolff done to upset you today, Miss Josephine?"

"Nothing," she sighed, stepping into the lift. "I went and cocked it all up on my own."

She didn't explain any further, and Gabriel didn't press. Instead, he observed her, taking in her deep guilty frown and overall agitation. Glancing at the healer, she only raised an eyebrow, squinting slightly when she realized he wasn't interrogating her. Instead, he asked something rather unexpected.

"Would you care to join me for a cup of tea?"

"Excuse me?"

* * *

Gabriel smiled that stupid bright smile, white teeth nearly blinding her, as he handed her a to-go cup of coffee. "Two sugars, a slight dash of cream." She nodded, frowning slightly when he held the door open as well, leading them into Diagon Alley. He followed happily, a cup of tea held gingerly in his own hand as they set off on a sedated walk.

Dressed in casual clothing, healer robes hung in his locker, Gabriel felt like a regular person for once in this new interaction with Josephine. He had just gotten off shift, and instead of rushing home for any shut eye he could manage, he'd decided to take the rare chance of spending time with the woman who still plagued his thoughts.

"I see you are not wearing your glasses," he chastised her playfully, laughter bubbling out of his throat when she scowled and refused to look at him. Really, it was an adorable pout that he found ridiculously funny.

" 'M not that blind. I can see you just fine, doc." She took a sip from her steaming cup, pleasantly surprised to find he had actually gotten it nearly right. Perhaps a touch more sugar, and it would have been perfect.

"I believe, seeing as I'm off the clock, you may call me Gabriel. If you wish." He paused to let a mother and child walk by, oblivious to yet another suspicious glance from his walking partner. She watched as he offered the small toddler a bright smile and wave, to which the tired little girl responded with a clumsy flail of her own hand. "Look at that, absolutely tuckered out, the little dear." He chuckled and started off again, rather happy to be out in the sunshine and fresh air, even though he was ridiculously tired.

They were mostly silent, Gabriel pointing out this and that as they strolled through the surprisingly peaceful alley. It was the perfect time of day to visit the shopping district. Mid-afternoon, when most witches and wizards had already completed their shopping, and the shop keepers began taking their lunches or wiping down displays.

"I am terribly curious about what happened today, you know." Gabriel kept his tone light, smiling kindly at Josephine, who was still subdued and had a gloomy air about her. "I don't believe I've ever heard you take blame for a bad appointment with Healer Wolff."

"Ehm…yeah. Well, that's probably because I never caused him to levitate me out of the room and lock the door in my face. I…" She sighed, brushing a loose hair behind her ear. "I _really_ fucked up."

Once again, he didn't press her any further, but he wasn't very good at hiding the immense curiosity written all over his face. Before she could stop herself, the words began tumbling from her mouth.

"So, it started out like normal. He had me running the drills; charms, defense spells, easy home spells, transfiguration. I just…I was frustrated. He was having me do first year spells, at the most third year, and we've done them over and over and _over_. He knows I'm well beyond these things, that they're not even exerting in any way now, but we're still doing the same mediocre shit as three months ago. And well…I went and turned his book into a stampeding bull because I'm a great cocking child."

"Y-you-" He didn't even get to finish, astonished laughter breaking through. "In a hospital!" He was equal parts appalled yet amused by the vision in his own head. Her deep frown lifted into just a touch of a smile at his guffaws. "Oh, Josephine, you can't-" He had to stop again, trying very hard to stifle the giggles still tickling his throat. "You cannot transfigure a stampeding bull inside of a hospital. That is quite possibly the _worst_ thing someone could ever do."

"Yes, well, we've already covered the fact that I fucked up." She shook her head, but that little tilt of a smile remained in the wake of his struggling to keep a stern face. "Regardless, Healer Wolff has, obviously, ended our arrangement."

"He didn't really?"

"As I said, I transfigured a stampeding bull in a hospital. I believe he was quite serious." She shrugged, glancing through the window of a book shop. She actually felt, well, _stupid_ , now that she'd said it all out loud. She really was a child, wasn't she? No mature person would go and pull a stunt like that.

Gabriel hummed to himself, finding it hard to think of a solution for the ash-haired woman. Healer Wolff did not forgive easily, and if he had been in the man's shoes, even he would have reacted rather angrily. What she had done was rash and potentially dangerous. She could have hurt staff and patients or even herself. However, someone else could still be interested in helping the witch with her core. Someone who would be much more inclined to push her abilities like she wanted. Someone who was not located in a hospital.

"Tell me, Josephine," he began, pausing to wet his lips as he tried to word this properly. "Have you given any thought to Master Daljeet's offer?" Previous encounters had the man preparing himself for her scowl and instant dismissal, but she surprised him, only frowning slightly with a thoughtful look in her eyes. "He seemed quite open to working one-on-one with you. Perhaps his practices would better suit you."

"Maybe…" She refused to commit without giving this some serious thought. The man had, quite honestly, been completely forgotten in the past few months. His beliefs about magic and this 'Mother' business still made her uncomfortable. _But, he is considered a master_ , she thought, frowning into her coffee. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I can ask for." He smiled again, letting the topic drop easily. It would put his mind at ease, for now, to know she would at least seriously consider it. If it was the best choice, he was fully confident she would make it. Eyes catching on a sun-faded sign well above her head, he gave a slight 'ah'. "You've lived here your whole life, yes?"

"Unfortunately." She quipped dryly, following his gaze with a sinking stomach to the closed and dusty shop near the end of the alley. _**The Man With Many Hats.**_

"In all of my time since coming here, I have never seen that shop open. I've always wondered what it was? Why it's still here?" He led them right up to the dusty cobwebbed windows, peeking through to the shadow covered clustered interior. "Everything is still here, yet I've never seen a soul inside."

Jo frowned deeply from behind him, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Her heart broke at the state of the old place. Her father and grandfather were probably rolling in their graves.

"The owner probably doesn't know what to do with it. It was shut down during the war." Her voice cracked a bit, throat constricting painfully. She had to fight the urge to look up, to find the little window hidden behind the silhouette man donning his hats.

It didn't work.

Bleak, sun bleached yellow curtains were still hung behind the glass, a kitchen hidden behind them. She could see their tattered burned edges from here. A lump formed in her throat, horribly fresh feeling memories burning through her mind.

Cole washing the dishes, peering through that very curtain as witches and wizards passed below.

Herself, nodding off in the rocking chair with Lucy snuggled to her breast. Cole watching over them from his recliner, reading about the history of magic.

Lucy, wobbling around, gripping the coffee table for dear life as she chased after levitating toys.

Fire. An explosive spell fired in through the bedroom window. An attack in the middle of the night. Cole frantically gathering Lucy and what they needed as she and Katie provided cover, firing spells through the windows. Poppy rushing her family through the floo to safety, screaming for Jo and Katie to get out.

Shrieking laughter. A green light exploding into the wall just above their heads.

Fucking Merlin. She needed to leave.

She needed to get the fuck away from this place.

 _Now_.

"...-sephine. Josephine!" Frantic, panicked blue eyes finally focused, finding dark brown eyes blocking her view of the past. "Josephine, what's wrong?" Gabriel had a gentle hold of her wrist, mentally tracking her extremely accelerated heart rate. She'd gone pale, breathing nearing hyperventilation. He'd seen enough patients go into a panic to recognize the signs, he just didn't understand the cause. "Come on, Josephine, look at _me_. Everything is going to be alright. I need you to listen to me, can you do that?"

She nodded, trying to focus on his words, but her heartbeat was so loud. It was vibrating through her entire body, making everything else fade away.

Except it was too loud, explosively loud. Her skull was filled with static, such loud and blinding static.

And It felt hot, unbearably sweltering hot. But inside was cold, as if someone had dumped arctic water down the center of her spine.

Everything felt like too much, entirely too much going on. Why couldn't she catch her breath? Why did her chest hurt so much? Was someone shouting or was it just in her head?

What was even real?

All of it feels too real, but she _knows_ it's not.

But someone is screaming. There's fire. She can feel the smoke burning inside of her lungs.

But it's _not_ real.

"Can you feel my breathing, Josephine? Do you think you can match it?" Using the hand he already had control of, he pressed the palm of her hand against the center of his chest. She started to shake her head, still breathing much too fast. "Listen to me, Josephine? You hear me, yes?" His voice was smooth and deep, each word kept at an even tone. "Just listen to me, Josephine. We can go over to that bench and sit down. Would you like to sit down?"

"Y-yeah." Slowly, he led her across the vacant cobblestone to the bench. She followed easily, her eyes trying to glance around frantically, but Gabriel kept talking to her, keeping her attention solely on him.

"The bench is red, do you see it? It's right under that green and black awning. Only a few more steps, Josephine. Can you see the apothecary?" He kept pointing things out, words low and steady, the deep vibrations overtaking her heart's echoing **Th-thump-Th-thump**.

"Is this better, Josephine? Sitting down?" Thankfully, her breathing had started to settle, but even as they sat, he kept that gentle hold on her wrist. He didn't dare break the physical contact until her heartbeat had slowed.

"Yeah, yeah…" She gave her head a shake, trying to clear this strange fog from her mind. Everything felt imbalanced, like her brain had gone to sleep, tingling and buzzing as she tried to get a grip on herself. _What was happening_?

"Yeah, I'm alright. I'm fucking alright," she said forcibly. She wasn't talking to Gabriel, though, and he could see the anger churning beneath the confusion in her eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"I believe you just experienced something very distressing that caused your body to enter a panicked state." She glared at the ground, hands clenching and releasing as she tried to make them feel _right_ again. Everything felt wrong, so incredibly _broken_. "I'm sorry, Josephine. I didn't realize coming here could-"

"It shouldn't have," she spat, raising her eyes to glare at the building that had caused this. "It's been nearly ten years, it fucking shouldn't have caused shit." She sucked in another deep breath, her lungs still burning from that episode. Merlin, what the fuck was wrong with her?

Shaking her head again, she finally took notice of the weight on her wrist. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she found Gabriel's hand wrapped lightly around the limb, his dark skin contrasting with hers. She let herself focus on it, the weight, the warmth, the contrast in colors; and finally, the ringing in her ears began to fade.

Silence engulfed the pair, a conscious focus of matching their breathing as they stared at the small connection between them. The tinkling of a shop door caught Jo's attention, her eyes lifting to watch as a little old wizard offered a cheery farewell to the proprietor. He shuffled a few steps before turning with a crack, disapparating from the alley. Gabriel shifted beside her, moving into a more comfortable position instead of the hunched over arrangement he'd initially had. He didn't let go of her arm, and she couldn't find a reason to move it.

"C-can I tell you something?" She let her head hang, hair falling in a curtain to hide behind.

"Of course." He kept his eyes ahead, granting her a small amount of privacy.

"That's my shop." She gulped in a breath as silently as she could, forcing her voice to remain steady as her eyes refused to stay dry. "I lived above it, with m-my…husband and daughter." She didn't think she had to tell him they were gone, it was fairly obvious. "A-and I have a lot of memories, so many damn memories. They were supposed to be happy memories, but now?"

Gabriel understood now, he understood why someone so young had found the bottle so appealing. Swallowing thickly, he gripped her arm in a squeeze to show his understanding of the words she didn't speak.

"I wanted to forget all of it. I wasted all these years just trying to make those memories disappear, and you know what's funny?" She huffed out a slight chuckle that was anything but humorous. "Actually, it's pretty sad. All those memories are still there, fresh as the day they were made. It was _me_ that I forgot. And it took damn near losing every last piece of myself to realize."

Gabriel didn't say anything in response, and she appreciated it. He simply held her wrist a little tighter, his warmth offering more comfort than any words ever would.

* * *

Harry and Abigail were bored, wholly and completely bored. They were sitting outside of the arcade, pockets now empty, and barely any tickets between them for even a stupid pencil from the prize stand. Taffy sat beside them, tongue lolling as she panted away in the suffocating heat.

"We could… go… to the-"

"Park? Can't. Remember? They've shut it down for repairs."

Abigail huffed, pouting deeply. "Right. Okay…we could…"

Harry smirked slightly when she just finished with another huff. Neither of them had a clue on what to do, so they remained right where they were, sprawled on the sidewalk hoping for the tiniest breeze.

They only had a few weeks left before school started back up, and they'd run out of anything to do. They usually avoided the arcade, seeing as it was the teenagers' hole. However, they lucked out in their boredom, finding the place nearly empty today. Unfortunately, they'd only had a few coins between them, leading to a very short experience. Now they were broke on top of bored.

"What about your house? My Mum and the baby are sick, so we can't go there." Harry nearly sputtered, already shaking his head before she had finished speaking. "Why not?"

"Ah. Um." Taffy and Abigail both stared at him curiously as he struggled to think of an excuse. "Exterminators. Yeah, whole house is being cleaned out because of…bugs." Abigail did not look like she believed a single word. "Sorry." Shrugging, he ruffled his hair in hopes of hiding the heat in his cheeks.

"O-kay. Well then, what do you suggest?" She let out yet another little huff, obviously put out by his avoidance of letting her see his house. He already knew she wouldn't let be letting this go anytime soon. He'd need to talk to Jo about it.

"We could go to the comic store?" He _knew_ she absolutely hated the comic book store, but the level of boredom they had reached called for drastic measures.

"Ugh, _fine_." Huffing and puffing the whole way, Abigail pulled herself up and started in the direction of the little shop. Taffy happily trotted after the children, always walking between them and incoming strangers. Tail curled high with her nose stuck up even higher, Harry thought she looked much too uppity to be a normal dog. He'd been thinking so since their visit to Diagon Alley. It was just another thing he needed to ask Jo about.

* * *

The World Room cracked and grated, rotating round and round for a long moment. Jo and Harry stood in the center, duffel bags at their feet, s Poppy frantically checked her own bags behind them. The humans were dressed in light clothing, short sleeves and ball caps. Jo had a pair of sun glasses hanging from the neckline of her T-shirt, fingers playing with frames in nervousness as the doorway carved of white marble settled before them.

"Alright, everyone ready then?" She tried to keep her fidgeting at a minimum, knowing she was probably the only one filled with anxiousness over their 'vacation'.

"Poppy be needing to return home in a few days. Anything forgotten will be easily picked up then. Does Young Harry have his toothbrush?" Poppy clucked when Harry fidgeted guiltily, and snapped her fingers. A toothbrush whizzed through the air a second later, tucking itself into his awaiting bag. "My Mistress has her home-key?"

"Yeah, got it." Jo gave her pocket a light slap where the small portkey was stored. It was a literal house key that her father had found on the sidewalk years ago. "Ready, kid?"

"Of course. Never thought I'd visit India before." He shuffled around, smiling brightly at her in obvious excitement. She returned the grin, trying to absorb some of that excitement for herself. Stomach threatening to re-introduce her breakfast, Jo gave a quick nod for the others to start moving. Better to get it over with before she could find a reason to cancel their 'excursion'.

"Right, let's go."

She and Harry picked up their feather-light bags as Poppy continued tutting behind them, her own bags levitating easily behind her. The three made their way through the glowing doorway. Harry had to shield his eyes from the mid-afternoon sun blazing bright and hot from the center of the sky. Jo slipped her sunglasses over her nose, looking back and forth for any sign of civilization. All she could see for miles were sandy dunes and desert shrubs. Heat waves rolled in the distance as her skin began instantly beading with sweat. Poppy tutted once more, ears flopping in the sudden heat.

"Mistress, perhaps this be the wrong place?" She sounded unbelievably hopeful, the poor British elf seriously unaccustomed to such heat.

"Daljeet believes you are right where you are destined to be. Isn't that right, Miss Jo?" A cheerful voice sounded from behind the, laughter following as the three jumped. They turned in varying states of surprise, Jo being the least yet the most nervous. This was a reunion she had not adequately prepared herself for, it seems. She cleared her throat, intent on apologizing immediately for her previous meeting with the old Master. "Ah, it is good to see you. Daljeet knew you only needed time, yes?"

His gold teeth flashed in the sunlight, wrinkled cheeks lifting in a kind and welcoming smile. She really couldn't help but respond in kind, placing her hands together and offering a slight bow. "Hello, Master Daljeet. I'm…grateful for your acceptance of our visit. It's… _good_ to see you again."

Harry and Poppy fumbled to imitate her greeting, Poppy nearly planting her head into the sand in her haste. Daljeet chuckled, waving lazily for them to stand before offering his own slight bow and clasped hands. "As I said before, Miss Jo. Daljeet is master to no one and of nothing, he is only the servant. Come now, we have some distance to travel."

The small group followed the old man as he crested the dune they stood on. Down below, three large magnificently colored birds huddled near one another, clicking and honking. As the humans and elf neared, Jo could only stare in awe at the creatures. Tails nearly as long as her entire body arced gracefully into the air. Lengthy, dangerously sharp beaks dug through the sand in search of food. She'd never seen anything like them before.

"They're beautiful," she breathed, stopping a few steps away from the towering birds.

"What are they?," Harry asked, voice equally filled with awe.

"These are sarabs, they are wonderful desert crawlers and very fast." Daljeet informed them brightly. Approaching the largest bird, he hitched a sandal-clad foot onto the saddle, and with a litheness well beyond that of an old man, hoisted himself onto the sarabs' back. "This is Raja, he is the herd leader. That-" he pointed to the mainly green bird closest to Jo. "Is Sumati, she is his little sister. And that one, that is Nila." He smiled crookedly, placing a hand near his mouth as if he was going to tell them a great secret. "That's his girlfriend."

Raja clicked loudly, turning his head away in the most regally upturned nose Jo had ever witnessed.

The three foreigners turned back to their designated means of travel, looking up at the sarabs uncertainly. The sarabs stared back, heads turning in confusion when the humans and elf hesitated in approaching them.

"It be safe?" Poppy stared up at the towering creature nervously, taking a quick leap backwards when it clicked its beak in agitation. "They not be eating elves, do they?"

"The safest!" Daljeet seemed entirely too amused by their hesitation. "Daljeet promises, they are very safe and very friendly, and they most certainly do not eat elves. They much more prefer snakes and lizards. Nila would be best for the child and elf. Sumati does not do as well with small ones, unfortunately. She is too wild in the heart, and needs a firm rider."

"Right," Jo finally said, hoisting her duffel onto the sumati's back. With a wave of her right wand, she produced some ropes and fastened the bag down. Approaching Harry and Poppy, she repeated the action before helping the two onto the large bird's back. "Just keep a hold of the leads. It's an adventure after all, right?"

"Right," Harry responded firmly, but he still glanced nervously at the bird when it gave a great honk of impatience. "And if we fall off?"

Chuckling, Jo reached up to ruffle his hair. "I'll help you back on, you too Poppy. Keep a good grip, alright?" Poppy squeaked and nodded stiffly, long fingers already gripping the saddle as tightly as she could. Jo gave them each a pat and a smile before returning to her own ride. Reaching up to get a good hold of the saddle, she gave the bird a firm nod. "No bucking me off, yeah? Can't be embarrassing myself just yet." She thought it looked slightly amused by her, softly clicking its beak in a birdly imitation of laughter. "Right, onto the giant _beautiful_ magical bird I go."

Once he was certain they were all settled, Daljeet gave an odd sort of whistle, clicking his tongue twice at the end. Then they were off.

Jo could hear Poppy's muffled scream and Harry's bright laugh of surprise from behind her, snorting even as her own heart lobbed its way up her throat. Daljeet hadn't been exaggerating when he said they were very fast. It appeared that none of them had taken that to mean the speed of a snitch, though.

The vast expanse of dunes and sky raced past them, the sarabs devouring the distance in minutes. Soon enough, the three found themselves awed by something much greater than the sarabs' speed. There in the quickly diminishing distance, cresting out of the dunes, a growing city of stone began to paint the horizon.

A wall, covered in nearly every space with bright colors and tapestries, enclosed the entire city, a pair of giant red wooden doors directly in its center. Over the wall, spiking towers and roofs could be seen. Flat buildings covered in sprawling gardens and trees. A mountain closed in on the East, its peak disappearing in the clouds. A gushing waterfall fell from its face, a rainbow shimmering in its mist.

On the West, a long building with a twisting, notched and rounded spire. The flat roof of the building stretched for as far as their eyes could see. People filled the city, they could hear their voices carried by the wind and see their many outlines moving along the rooftops. And the smell, oh Merlin, their mouths were already watering by the delicious scents of unknown food dishes hidden behind the wall.

When the wall finally towered well above their heads, the sarabs slowed their pace, sedately covering the final meters of their journey. Daljeet fell back between them, smiling brightly as they stared at the city with wonder. He spread his arms out wide, laughing brightly when the large red doors swung open, welcoming them within.

"Welcome to Bachchon Ke Shahar, 'The City of Children'."

* * *

Harry peeked nervously through the curtain, watching from the window as people ambled past. He couldn't understand a word of what they said to one another, their language completely foreign to his ears. Children ran to and fro, laughing and shouting as they played freely in the streets. He saw a great many animals as well, some normal, like dogs and cats, some not so ordinary.

A winged and scaly 'cat' groomed itself on the neighboring roof, stopping only to watch as a rat ran along the road. A horse with eight legs stamped its hooves impatiently as a man fumbled for another apple in his sack. There was even a puppy with the legs and tail of a deer, nubs of future antlers poking out of his fur.

When a teenager walking past the window stopped and met his stare, Harry hastily closed the curtain with a gasp. This was not what he had been expecting when Jo had told him they were going to India. Turning away from the window, he quickly made his way back into the living area. Jo was seated on a large cushion, flipping through a book with a look of concentration.

"Jo."

"One sec, I've almost found it."

Harry sighed, flopping into another cushion as she continued flipping through many pages. After another minute, Jo gave a little 'ah-ha', marking the page before turning her attention on him. "What's up?"

"Why are we here?" After their initial meeting with that Daljeet fellow, Harry had the sudden realization that this wasn't just a 'vacation'. "This isn't really a vacation, is it?"

"Eh, it's hard to…" Jo cut off with a sigh, offering him an apologetic smile. "It's a vacation for you and Poppy. I've come here for some help with my magic. Let's call it 50/50. I'm sorry, kid."

Harry felt some disappointment, but he wasn't really surprised. He'd already guessed this was something to do with her and Healer Wolff's falling out. " 'S alright. What are we going to do, though? I can't understand a word of what they're saying."

"Now, that I have an answer to." She gave the book she had been reading a small shake. "Had to figure out the exact dialect, but I've found a translation spell. It'll make it so we can understand what they're saying, _and_ they'll be able to understand us. Nifty little spell, actually."

Releasing the red wand into her left hand, she waved it in a strange motion, muttering the spell under her breath. There was a shot of orange light straight into her torso. Harry watched curiously as she shot up from the cushion, racing for the window before throwing nearly her whole upper body through it. She started talking to someone outside, strange foreign words falling from her lips. Whoever she had found answered her with a laugh which she returned. Falling back into the room, she shot him a little smirk before quickly hitting him with the same spell.

"Alright, now that we can understand the people, what say you to some exploration? This is your vacation after all."

They'd quickly found that the area they would be staying in was essentially the residential area. People crowded the streets, constantly popping in and out of each others' homes, children underfoot and animals lazing about. The literal heart of the city. However, once they had ventured outside of the crowded center, they discovered a much different atmosphere.

The city was split into at least five different 'zones', so to say. The residential area directly in the center. A food and shopping district outside of that. To the East stood the mountain, its base surrounded by a babbling stream and lush vegetation. To the West, the temple for the Mother, a place of meditation and learning. Along the North wall were sectioned off open areas, each space occupied by varying age groups doing strange _magical_ exercises.

"What are they doing?" Harry and Jo were watching a group of young teenagers, all of which were dressed in matching loose tunic-like shirts and flexible pants. Unsure if they were even supposed to witness the happenings in this area, Jo and Harry had snuck onto some crates, peeking over the wall from behind the leaves of a tree branch.

Many of the teens were stretching or doing similar physical exercises, however, in the center, a boy and girl were facing one another in a duel the likes of which Jo had never seen before.

Their eyes widened when the boy produced a small sphere of water in his hand, throwing it with impressive speed and accuracy at the girl facing him.

"I've no fucking idea." Her eyebrows somehow found room to raise even higher when the girl created a thin whip of water, slashing the boy's growing water-ball into a spray of droplets. "I seriously have no idea," she muttered with a dumbstruck shake of her head.

"I want to do that. Do you think I can do it, too?" He was mesmerized, mouth dropping open just a bit when the girl turned the whip into a shield against an oncoming barrage of water bullets. What kind of magic was this that even Jo didn't recognize it? It looked _so cool_.

"Perhaps you could ask Daljeet?" The old man laughed openly as the two jumped away from the wall, Jo barely catching Harry as he nearly tumbled from the stack of crates. The foreigners gave him remarkably guilty faces as they crawled down from their snooping area. He was delighted, though. They were so curious, and he felt pure giddiness in the face of new minds to fill.

"Come, Daljeet will teach you in the temple. That is why you are here, yes?"

* * *

Gowri giggled, her mind completely distracted from chopping vegetables as two floppy large ears wiggled outside of the window. Peering over her shoulder, she looked for her mother, hoping she hadn't been caught yet. Her mother was singing quietly, hovering over a simmering pan with her back to her youngest daughter.

Perhaps if she just _touched_ them, she could find out what sort of creature had taken residence outside their kitchen. Fingers, covered in onion and garlic, tentatively reached through the window to gently taking hold of the two large ears.

They were soft, surprisingly so, and slightly fuzzy, like the skin of a peach. She giggled again, rolling the tips between her fingers.

"Pardon me!" A high pitched voice squeaked from below, surprising the small girl inside the kitchen. "Those be Poppy's ears!"

Gowri instantly released them, the strange words meaning nothing to her. Checking for her mother's attention once again, she turned back to the window and hauled herself up enough to look down. There, under the windowsill, stood an odd little creature, clutching at the base of its ears with a distressed face.

"What are you?," Gowri asked, fingers itching to grab those ears again.

"Poppy be sorry, Miss. Poppy does not understand what Miss be saying."

"What, I don't know what you're saying?"

The little girl and elf stared at one another for a long moment, neither speaking. Finally, Poppy just smiled and opened her basket. The little girl watched curiously as the creature snapped its long fingers, summoning a chocolate covered pastry. Levitating it to the window, Poppy smiled even brighter when the girl took it without hesitation, her own smile blooming at the gift. She was missing a tooth on the bottom, barely older than six if Poppy had to guess. The little girl said something in her own language again, but Poppy understood it well enough as an expression of gratitude.

"You's be welcome, Miss. Poppy be going now."

Gowri watched as the little creature waved and walked away, that overly large picnic basket swinging easily on its arm. Turning her attention back to the sweet in her hand, she quickly stuffed it in her mouth. Eyes widening, she nearly screeched at the explosion of amazing flavor and sweetness on her tongue. She'd never had something so delicious before!

"Gowri, why aren't you chopping the vegetables? Do you wish for your mother to die before you are finished?!" Chewing as quickly and sneakily as she could, Gowri finally returned to the task she should have been doing all along. Perhaps she would run into the funny little creature later.

* * *

"In our first meeting, you did not understand, or perhaps, you did, but you did not find it rational. Even now, I do not think you agree with what it is we believe. What we know. This is alright. I knew, from the moment I laid eyes on you, that one day you would step foot in this place. You were destined to take this journey, just as we all had been, to seek out understanding."

Daljeet paused, smiling kindly back at her as he led them further into the great round room. She raised an eyebrow curiously, eyes becoming distracted by the many tapestries and murals on the walls. There were crude, childish drawings in chalk all along the floor. Clearly, this was a space open to everyone in the city. It was not how she had imagined a temple to look.

"The Mother, she is not some deity or idol. It is just the most fitting name for such an awesome entity. She is everything, from the tiniest speck of dirt to the stars in the universe. She is _life_. She is that which connects even the most advanced species to that tiny speck of dirt." He waved her further along, stopping in the middle of the room beside a long stone alter, a tightly bound tapestry laying in the center.

"We believe that the Mother brought forth magic into the existence of life. That she gifted us with only a sliver of her essence, so that we could be more than just beings living next to others. We believe she entrusted the world with this gift so that we may live _with_ one another. Tell me, Miss Jo, why would a child save a small ant from the rain?"

"Because he doesn't want it to die?" Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she offered a shrug when he continued staring at her, clearly expecting more.

"But _why_? Why would a human, a different much more advanced species care that a creature incapable of inventing an umbrella care what happens to the ant?" He urged her with a small uplifting of his hands, still smiling kindly.

"That child thinks its life is worth saving." She answered easily, unsure where these questions were leading. It was just basic innocent kindness, not magic.

"Yes. More so, the child feels a connection with the ant, an indescribable feeling of familial duty to ensure that the ant lives to see another day. _That_ is the Mother. It is why we feel such an ache, deep in our beings, when nature is destroyed by the hands of people. It is why we cry when a stranger dies in an unfortunate circumstance. It is why we are sad when a bouquet of roses wilt and die. It is also why we find such joy in new life. Why we find peace in the jungles or by the sea. It is why we are capable of finding the tiniest reflections of ourselves in the eyes of a another. Deep inside our souls, there is a connection with everything around us. That is magic."

Jo frowned, watching as he unraveled the long tapestry. It was clearly very old, the fabric creaking softly as he gently revealed the story told in thread. It was the earth, surrounded by a glowing shield of golden energy. An ethereal eye blinked slowly from the core of the earth, the energy flowing from its tear ducts. Creatures of varying sizes swayed in the golden light, small orbs pulsing from inside of their bodies. Some creatures, even the human ones, had very small lights inside, while others had light pulsing from their very centers throughout their entire bodies.

"So," Jo started, voice cracking slightly as an overwhelming feeling she couldn't describe filled her chest. The feeling of realizing she was looking at something much more important, _significant_ , than a pretty picture. "Why are some people incapable of magic? Why are there so many mundane creatures and muggles if she gave the entire world magic?"

"This is the same as asking why some people can write with their left hand. There are many people who are born with small cores, and there are many born with a core capable of producing usable magic. Have you ever wondered why these mundane people and animals can sense danger? This sixth sense, as they call it, what is it? Why do the mundane animals run in droves for mountains when a tsunami is on its way? Why does a person avoid a certain person or place simply because their instincts feel it is dangerous? Or contrarily, how does an animal or person just know that someone is trustworthy? Does that not sound like magic to you?"

"In a roundabout way, I suppose you could say that." Sighing, she really tried to quiet the little voice in her head grumbling _bullshit_. She knew she'd have to keep an open mind when she decided to make this journey. "So…it's really as simple as being born with a body different from mine?"

"Precisely." He smiled happily, excited by her willingness to learn. "It is also why one witch or wizard is more inclined to, say, defense magic while another cast offensive spells on the first try. We are all different, yes."

Humming in response, Jo let her eyes roam, exploring the many other tapestries hung along the large walls. They all depicted vastly different scenes, but they each contained one common detail: the eye. "You know, this doesn't answer my real question. How were those children controlling water? Neither of them had a wand or staff, it was all done wandless and wordless. That's advanced stuff back home."

"It's funny, no? How differently people assess things based on our upbringing. The magic your people can do with wands? This is seen as very advanced to my people. We first learn to use our raw magic without an enhancer such as a wand or staff. We teach our people to learn control and how to listen to the magic they were born with. You remember, yes?"

"The cube thing?"

"Yes, the _Brahmaan Aankh_. Those children you saw, just as each of us has done, discovered their magic's identity, and are now learning to control and use their magic properly. The session you witnessed was for our water class." He pointed towards a tapestry containing a man and woman splitting the water of a lake. "The next training area over held our fire identities." A tapestry of a boy holding a ball of flames in each hand. "The next, the air identities." Yet another tapestry, a man sending a wave of air to meet an incoming sandstorm. "Those are the most common identities found here, though we do have a mix of earth and ice identities as well. Naturally, you will be meeting our earth identities in your time here."

They stopped in front of the last two tapestries on the wall. A large man with a stern face raised a boulder with his magic, levitating it beside his head. It suddenly broke into seven smaller rocks, dancing around the man in the shape of tiny birds. The final tapestry held a woman, standing in the center of a lake. The surface of the water turned to ice beneath her feet, spreading rapidly for the sandy shoreline.

"So… _wait_ , hold on. I'm lost now. You're saying that each and every magic user is capable of doing _that_ type of magic, and what, we just all forgot?" _Bullshit, that doesn't make any sense_. The old man didn't respond, only hummed and shrugged, clearly amused as he led her from the room full of tapestries. "There's no way a whole society simply forgot. C'mon, you offered me answers."

She watched the earth man repeat his sequence again, turning just in time to watch as Daljeet started up a set of stone stairs. Once again, the little old man discarded his age's limitations, walking so quickly up the stairs Jo had to jog just to keep him in view.

"Daljeet is answering questions, but some questions are best answered by your own mind. Come, this way!" He was running now, he had to be, Jo thought as her legs began to burn.

"You are young, why are you so far behind?"

His voice rang from above, laughter clearly echoing down the spiraling stairwell. Craning her neck, she tried to find any sign of the man above, but he was gone. Scowling, she tried to keep a fast pace and push through her body's discomfort in the face of exercise. Higher and higher she climbed, glancing in every opening, but Daljeet was never there. Only his laughter, echoing from far above her head.

Reaching the final step, she leaned heavily against a stone wall, forehead sweaty and lungs desperate for breath. She whipped her head around, frowning deeply at the dead end. There was nothing to be found, no doorways or Daljeet. Groaning, just a tad, she let her head fall against the stone, trying desperately not to completely lose her shit. Why had she even come here? Was this all just a game to the old man? Everything he told her sounded like bullshit, and now he'd gone and abandoned her. Why did Gabriel even suggest this?

"What are you doing? This is no place to nap, come!"

"Oh, what the fuck."

Daljeet's little balding head was sticking out of the wall, no shoulders or body to be seen, just a floating head on the stone. His gold teeth flashed in a big grin, nodding for her to follow as his head disappeared back through the stone wall. Approaching, she reached out a hand to touch where his head had been. Her fingers slid through the stone like water.

 _What the fuck_ , she thought, irritated by the games. Inhaling deeply, she released the exhale quickly through her nose, plowing through the stone wall with a scowl. Then she stopped, half her body still inside the wall as her eyes fell on the sight stretched before her.

Every rooftop below could be seen, the gardens full of specks of bright color. People and animals, little blobs in the distance and far below, were crawling all over the place. In the far distance sat the mountain, an eye carved into its face crying a gushing waterfall. It wasn't just the city, though, it was the desert. From left to right, sandy dunes stretched into the horizon. Dots of trees and shrubs broke up the dizzying gold, large birds lounging in the sparsely provided shade.

"It is beautiful, yes? _Life_. It must be protected, always, this life we see." Daljeet laid a wrinkled hand on her arm, gently guiding her to step out of the wall.

"Perhaps you do not know, but there was a time when the mundane of my land detested those of your land. My people desired independence, and they had to fight for it. At this time, the magical government was distant from the mundane, however, they were not separate. The magical government of your land refused to take a stance, but this did not keep them from profiting off of us. We demanded they separate from the mundane government or use their connection to grant our people their independence. They refused either option, so we took our own steps to protect our people. We pulled all support from the Ministry of Magic, taking our teachings with us. Perhaps, it was a rash move, but it was the chosen foot to stand on."

He looked incredibly sad and old, brown eyes turning to the distance as his lips turned down in a rare frown. She didn't know what he was speaking of, she'd never even heard any of this history before. Quite honestly, she didn't know much of anything that had happened outside of her own time and society.

"As Daljeet said, this is now considered the 'Old Way' to your people. It is also our own fault, for stubbornly hiding for all these years, locking ourselves behind our walls. I said it was your destiny to step foot on this land, to understand, but it could also be my own hope to see magic respected and understood as it once was. There are flaws to be found in every society, magical or mundane. Our secrecy and stubborn refusal of friendship is one of ours. The wrongs of our pasts cannot rule our future. Magic depends on life to bond together, to see each other as something worth living alongside."

He gave her a small smile, a hopeful smile, and it was something Jo wasn't sure she could return. Instead, she turned her eyes back on the thriving city and sun baked sand. Why was he placing this on her shoulders? This wasn't her intention, to act as some link between their people. She was here for her own well being, her own troubles. Not the bloody world's.

Her eyes caught sight of a small head full of messy black hair, scurrying along the pathway below, trailing an old man. Wasn't this the burden of a parent? To create a world she wanted her child to live in? To create a better and happier place than she had known? Wasn't that why she had come here, to find the help and knowledge to save him from history repeating itself?

Sighing deeply, Jo just nodded, stepping back through the wall with the old man only a step behind. He placed a warm hand against her arm, squeezing it gently as he stepped past.

"Come, let Daljeet teach you the way of the children. The way of the mountain."

* * *

Harry trailed the _ancient_ looking man, ruffling his hair uncertainly as the distance between himself and Jo grew. The old man's gnarled cane tapped along, searching for any obstacles his milky eyes could no longer see. Harry wished he could refer to him as anything but 'Old Man', however, the old man had yet to make even a peep. He'd only tapped Harry, who had been exploring the temple curiously, with the cane before nodding his head for the boy to follow. Harry hadn't at first, confused by what the strange man wanted. After the old man had repeated the tapping and nodding, he'd hesitantly obeyed.

"Where are we going?" The old man slowly lifted a shaky arm, pointing forward with a toothless smile. Ruffling his hair once again, Harry just sighed and bit his tongue. Obviously,the old man would not be answering any of his questions. He continued to follow the man through an alley, stumbling a bit to avoid the many creatures sunbathing on the sand. Somehow, the old man managed to step over or around every single one.

He knocked his cane against a small wooden door hidden in an alcove, a burst of magic lighting up the doorway. Through the door was darkness, only a few small windows and cracks providing light from the outside. Harry tripped and stumbled after the man some more, apprehensive, yet terribly curious. They descended a skinny staircase, through an even smaller door, and then they were in a narrow hallway. At least this one was lit up with large square windows. Harry squinted at the sudden brightness, finding the hallway made of stone and covered in spider webs.

The old man stopped in the center, his cane tapping seven times against the wall where an eye was carved into the stone. The eye shimmered, an electric purple burning to life along its grooves. Then the eye blinked. The wall separated with the lids, disappearing into the floor and ceiling.

"Holy sh-"

The old man frowned fiercely at the boy, the curse being swallowed back up by the blushing nine year old. Nodding curtly, the old man led them inside the opening, his cane no longer tapping along the ground. Harry peeked through the doorway, a nervousness curling inside his stomach at the small circular room. In the very center sat a small table, a pure white cloth covering the top. On the table, directly in the sunlight filtering in from a hole in the ceiling, sat a small wooden cube.

Taking a tentative step inside the room, Harry watched curiously as the old man lit a candle with his cane. He pointed to the cube, smiling toothlessly at the boy. Not understanding, Harry also pointed at the cube, face scrunching when the man began to nod. Slowly, he took a couple steps toward the cube then stopped. He wondered if Jo was looking for him.

The old man made a rasping noise, pointing towards the cube with a bit more vigor. He pointed to Harry then the cube again, tapping his cane against the ground twice. Once again, Harry pointed towards the cube, only managing another two steps before stopping. The old man's milky eyes stared into his, his old shaky finger still pointing towards the eerie block. Harry could feel the hair on his neck begin to stand as the unnerving certainty that the blind man could see him coiled in his stomach.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly extended his hand, gingerly wrapping his fingers around the small wooden cube.

* * *

Jo swore under her breath when her foot slipped out from under her, _again_. Harry tried to stifle a giggle, failing when she turned her miserable sweat soaked face towards him. He was faring much better than her, even with the little backpack he'd insisted on carrying. She stuck her tongue out, pulling herself out of the mud, _again_ , to follow Daljeet who was much further ahead of them.

After a few days in the crazy city, Daljeet had offered to take them up the mountain. "A site all should see at least once in life!" He'd said quite cheerfully. At five in the morning. "Exercise is good for the soul!"

Well, her soul disagreed.

Harry had been immensely pleased with the experience so far, his camera being put to great use at the multitude of colorful plants and animals, both magical and mundane. Jo, so far, hadn't found much appeal in the adventure. Which had nothing at all to do with how terribly out of shape she was, or that she'd been forbidden her wands.

"Jo, look at that! What're those?!" Harry pointed enthusiastically at a swarm of little red humanoid creatures with tiny feathers.

"Look a bit like pixies. Though, I've never seen red ones before," Jo rasped before chugging water, an obnoxious amount spilling onto her neck and face.

"Those would be Jaipur pixies. Very playful," Dlajeet answered, chuckling when one pixie jumped up and swung on the end of his beard. It began trying desperately to untie a bell from his ribbon. "Very mischievous." The pixie clicked loudly at him, raising a tiny fist in defiance before returning, obviously insulted, to his swarm. Harry and Daljeet both giggled, already starting off again. Jo just groaned, stumbling along after the happy pair.

By mid-morning, after many more meetings between her knees and the dirt, Jo finally breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the waterfall. Behind the magnificent eye sat a small pond, nestled beneath shady trees and blooming flowers. Harry happily dropped the pack and his shoes and shirt, wading into the picturesque blue water with a happy sigh. Jo excitedly undid the laces on her shoes, kicking them. Ripping off her socks, she moved the fastest she had all day towards the refreshing looking water.

However.

"This is the best place for meditation. Many of the rock identities find it most calming to be on the mountain." Daljeet smiled quite happily from his position on an outcropped rock.

"...but…really?" She really thought she might cry, honest to Merlin cry when the old man just nodded, either oblivious or uncaring of her disappointment. Sighing deeply, she cast another longing gaze on the water Harry was splashing about in. Settling onto the rock beside Daljeet, she tried not to glare, but found herself unsuccessful, especially when he looked at her and burst into giggles.

"Daljeet is only helping. The earth identities have claimed this is the spot they had most found their successful breakthroughs. Once we are done, you may join the boy in his fun. Daljeet promises." He smiled kindly, taking her hand gently as he had done since their first meditation. "Come, let us clear our minds."

Nodding reluctantly, Jo inhaled deeply, slowly releasing the breath through her nose as she closed her eyes. She had found, in their last few sessions, that to properly empty her mind she first had to focus on each sense. t had at least worked the last two times, so she decided to start there. She had the tendency to do it in a checklist starting with hearing, next smell, and finally, touch.

Of course, the first thing she took notice of was Harry, splashing and sputtering in the water. She could hear him laugh a bit, her name cutting short when he noticed their meditation. She could hear birds, too. They were chirping and singing, flying between branches and shaking the leaves. There was a fly or mosquito buzzing around her sweaty skin. The water of the falls, rushing out of the eye in immense pressure. The slight breeze, pushing leaves and flowers in new directions. Daljeet's long steady breaths, the slight whistle his nose made when he inhaled.

She could smell the dirt. Rich earthy dirt covered in lush plant and animal life. She could smell the pond, the scent of perfectly hydrated flowers and grass at its edges. Unfortunately, she could also smell her own sweat, the stink a sure sign she had climbed a mountain today. There was something else, a crisp smell that lightly burned her nose and throat. Mountain air. It made her head feel fuzzy the longer the inhaled it, a tingling cleansing fire coursing in her veins from the high altitude.

Finally, touch. The feeling of Daljeet's wrinkled yet soft warm hand in her own. She could feel his pulse in his fingertips, the tempo healthy and constant, never faltering or softening. The warmth of the sun, heating her from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her exposed toes. Her hair gently danced in the light breeze causing goosebumps to race down her spine. The beat of her own heart echoing into her limbs, creating a harmony with the tempo of her magic. She could feel the hard warm rock beneath her, unyielding and strong.

Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion, the feeling of another beat echoing from the base of her spine all the way up to her skull. She laid her free hand on the rock, subconsciously reaching with her magic for the unknown tempo.

"The mountain," she whispered, mouth twisting into a tiny half smile as her heart and the mountain matched tempos. "I can feel the mountain."

"Good," Daljeet's whispered. "Feel the mountain until it is all you know. Forget the life of Miss Jo. Find the life of a mountain."

She could feel her forehead and eyebrows scrunching in confusion, unsure of what she was to do. Her magic reached out again, tentative and uncertain of what it would find. She imagined it was in a cavern of sorts, labyrinth like with twists and turns as her magic chased the pulse within the mountain. Deeper she went, searching and searching for _anything_. She was certain her magic would falter, but she pressed on, hoping the next turn would find the heart of the mountain.

But it wasn't.

The turn led to another.

That turn led into another.

And another.

And another.

And finally, her magic couldn't go any farther. It tried, it desperately reached and reached, but it merely fizzled away with every attempt.

She couldn't do it.

Daljeet felt her magic begin its journey back, retracting slowly in defeat to its home. He gave her hand a gentle pat, smiling kindly when she opened disappointed eyes.

"It is no easy feat, to find the heart of the mountain. Your magic is still small, but this is alright, yes? It is why you are here. We shall make you stronger, the strength of a mountain, yes?" She snorted a bit, still finding the old man just a tad mad, but nodded, trying desperately to grasp onto something positive. Daljeet felt pride for her will. It would lead her to great success. "Go, play and family are also very good for the soul."

He watched as she jumped into the pond, dunking and splashing her boy with a raspy laugh. She would need some time, but Daljeet believed she had the pure stubbornness of an earth identity to power through until the end. Even on her worst of days, she would still stumble up this mountain if she believed it would help her heal.

Therefore, Daljeet planned to do just that. Even if she begged to never set foot on the mountain again, he would walk her up every day. It is the way of the Mother, and he is her servant.

* * *

Harry and Poppy watched in awe as the teenagers of the fire pit trained. Great spiraling flames of gold roared above their heads, circling around the pit to crash into a giant wall of dark red fire. Bright purple flaming balls danced around a girl like a hula-hoop, exploding at random towards her opponent. His own whip of orange split them into nothing, snakelike in its strikes. It was wickedly terrifying.

Jo and Daljeet were another pit over, meeting the few other earth identities in the city. She'd told them to enjoy themselves and explore the city, but they'd gotten distracted by the spectacular show of magic.

Poppy released many sighs and squeaks at the dauntingly close flames, but she remained resolutely by Harry's side. She was concerned by the look of fearless awe on the boy's face, by the way he barely blinked as he observed their skillful movements. The boy, rightfully so, was always quite taken by magic. However, she was hesitant for him to get such ideas as this in his head. This was not the magic of their home, and she worried for his safety if he were to replicate anything he had seen without proper instruction.

"Young Harry, shall we find somewhere to sit? Poppy be feeling quite hungry and too hot." He agreed, reluctantly staring at the pit of fire users until they were well out of sight. Poppy's shoulder relaxed with every step they took away from it. She must talk to her Mistress about this.

* * *

"So…you are the foreigner Daljeet wants us to train, eh?"

Rustam had a face that might as well have been carved from the stone he stood on, craggly scars and lines included, with hazel golden eyes buried beneath great bushy eyebrows. Jo had a feeling, especially by the extremely grumpy face she was receiving, that Rustam felt a certain way about her presence in his home. She also had the distinct feeling her looking down on him wasn't helping her case any. Literally, seeing as the top of his head came to her chest.

"It appears so, yeah."

He crossed his arms, piercing her with a glare as he gave her a once over. Then he spit on the ground, saliva splashing onto her shoes.

"We don't wear _shoes_ in the pit." He scowled at her, neck craning to effectively glare down the bridge of his nose up at her.

Jo frowned at the man, gaze being met by a stubborn challenge in his own eyes. She glanced over his shoulders, noting the other earth identities also walked around with bare feet. Sighing, she knelt down to undo the laces of her boots and kick the offensive outerwear away.

"Better?"

"Hm," he grumbled something unintelligible, spitting once again, thankfully not at her feet. She wasn't sure her patience would withstand that a second time. He suddenly turned, stalking away from her with loud thumping footfalls, dust clouds kicking around him with each step. She turned a raised brow on Daljeet, the useless old man who just stood there in silence, smiling serenely.

"Rustam is cranky before lunch. He is the greatest earth identity in the city. You will learn all there is to learn from him." Gold teeth flashing in a bright smile, he nodded to the three others occupying the pit before ambling away. "Daljeet will see you after. Good luck, Miss Jo."

 _Good luck my fucking foot_ , she thought sourly, turning to find her 'mentor' with a frown. The little man had found his way on top of a large boulder on the edge of the pit, leaning across the top with an arm thrown over his eyes. Sighing, sure that the action would be a regular occurrence for the day, she started towards him.

Tiny rocks and sand dug into the soft skin on the bottoms of her feet, and her teeth clenched slightly, more so in irritation than pain. It bloody did hurt though. The type of pain to make your eyes see red, like biting the inside of your cheek. The closer she came, the lower her patience dropped.

"Oy, are you fucking napping?"

"Yep. Go sit on the sides, and stay out of the way. We're not babysitting you for that fool of a man." He didn't even glance at her, merely waving her away lazily.

 _Oh_. Now she understood why she'd been told to leave her wands behind. It's because she would have fucking murdered this cuck.

"Are you having a go? He told me you were the only earth identities in the city, who else am I supposed to learn from?" She glared up at him, hoping her could at least feel it since he refused to look at her.

He just shrugged, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. "Sounds like a you problem."

Eyebrows lifting in disbelief, her lips quirked up just the slightest. Was this fucking real life? She couldn't help it, not really. A rasp of a laugh left her mouth, body relaxing as she rocked onto the heels of her feet, sharp stones embedding themselves into the skin.

She traveled all this way for _this_? She wasted her time and energy, her fucking brain cells, learning about these people and their fucking beliefs; for _this_?!

"What _the_ fuck," she muttered, shaking her head slightly as she turned away from the lump on the rock. "Ah, _what the fuck_."

Rustam peered out from beneath his arm, watching as the woman walked away, shaking her head and mumbling angrily. He shrugged his shoulders again, returning his arm to truly settle in for a nap. She clearly wasn't worth his time.

 **WHUMP**

Bolting upright in surprise and irritation, he found a well-worn dragon hide boot tumbling back down his boulder.

"Little girl-"

 **Whump**

He scowled darkly when her other boot whacked him in the chest. She was glaring at him fiercely from below, shoulders set and arms lightly flexed, clearly ready for a fight.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck this place, and fuck your shitty attitude." She stalked closer to the rock, glaring up at him with blue eyes as hard as sapphires. "You think I just, what, wandered my way in here out of curiosity? Just wanted to see the local sights and try my hand at some 'foreign' magic? That it, you cock? Because let me tell you something."

He grimaced at the feeling of her raw magic washed against his skin. He _hates_ when people do that.

"I'm here because I need to be. My fucking magic needs me to be. My _boy_ needs me to be. Maybe you don't give a shit, and there's nothing I can do about that, but you don't have to give a shit to at least point me in the right direction. Whether or not you like me doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that I fix all this broken _stupid_ shit inside of me. And guess what, your shit attitude isn't going to stop me-"

"Ugh, shut up." Flicking a finger, he backed her up by at least three steps with some elevated rocks. "Mother's mercy, have you ever heard of just saying please?"

"You ever heard of not being a jackass?" She was still glaring spectacularly at him, nostrils flaring as she huffed like a bull.

It was funny.

"No?" Sliding down from his rock, he gave her another once over. "Yeah, alright, this'll work. Come on then, little girl."

She suddenly didn't know what to do with herself, skin still buzzing with all of that anger, as he started walking in the opposite direction. Looking around, she found the three others watching her in clear amusement, and that horrible realization that she'd made a giant ass of herself forced yet another sigh out of her. Anger disappearing under the heaving wave of embarrassment, she quietly trailed after her new mentor.

"Alright, foreigner." He stopped at the outskirts of the pit, cracking his neck slightly before turning his stocky body to face her. "Why don't you tell me what all you can do? What am I working with here?"

"Ehm…I destroyed my house almost a year ago when my core exploded. That's 'bout it." She shrugged, giving him a little smirk when he started glaring again.

"Mother's mercy. You're worse than a child." He waved her off when she opened her mouth in obvious protest. "No, all ribbing aside for the moment, you are less skilled than the smallest child in this city. You really haven't done _anything_?" She shrugged again, grimacing as a new wave of embarrassment overtook her. He grumbled under his breath, scratching at his head. This was going to be rough. Where does he even start with that?

She had a sinking feeling when he started glancing around with clear agitation. Was she not able to learn?

He grumbled at her to stay put, stalking away heavily. She turned, watching curiously as he approached that boulder again. He lifted both arms, bringing them down in jerky motions causing the boulder to break in thin cracks. Tiny rocks rained down on the ground at his feet, which he scooped up before stalking back towards her.

"Sit down." He dropped the tiny rocks into a pile in front of her. "Try and move those. Once you can do that, we'll have something to work with."

"How am I supposed to do that?" She poked at the small pile, turning a questioning glance on him.

"That's a you problem. Let me know when you've got it." He responded with a shrug and a yawn. With that _insightful_ bit of advice, he turned away and returned to his boulder. She glared after him, exhaling sharply through her nose before turning her glare on the rocks.

"What. The. Fuck."

* * *

"Any luck?" He didn't even try to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Fuck off."

* * *

"Master those rocks yet?"

She waved two fingers at him, a sharp breath leaving her nose like a rampaging bull.

* * *

"How's it-"

She threw a handful of those damn pebbles at him, scowling darkly when he only laughed and walked away.

* * *

Four days.

 _Four_.

 _ **DAYS**_.

She continued to glare at the pile of stones, magic ricocheting violently inside and around her as anger finally overtook her.

She'd tried moving the rocks with her magic. That did nothing but exhaust her.

She tried meditating, reaching for the stones as she had with the mountain. That exhausted her even faster. It just felt like her magic was passing through, well, a pile of _rocks_. There was nothing for the magic to interact with.

She didn't know what to fucking do. Merlin, how was she supposed to do this?!

"Hey, jackass." He looked entirely too comfortable sprawled across that rock. Once again, he didn't even look at her, just hummed. "Will you _please_ teach me how to move these fucking rocks?"

"Yeah, alright." He sat up with a stretch, yawning as if she had woken him from a perfect little nap. A lazy smile spread across his awfully smug face. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the part of her that descended from _that_ side of the family, knew she was going to bash his head with every single one of those rocks. Once she learned how to, of course.

"Right, so stay standing this time. Do you know how to reach out your magic? Watch." Raising a hand, he released a tiny, nearly translucent stream of dark green. She felt her eyebrows rise in true surprise. Is that what it looked like when she did it? "It's not the same as that energy thing you seem to do. It's an intentional search, where you are physically connecting your magic with the element."

"Like what I do with a wand?" He hummed noncommittally, shrugging and nodding at the same time. She could only watch in fascination as the stones absorbed his magic like sponges. The little pile stacked themselves into a tower, perfectly balanced even after his magic had receded. "Wait, what do you mean 'energy thing'?"

"It's nothing weird, we just all noticed it is all. I know a handful of people here that do the same thing. Some people just have a second skin, almost, of their magic. I don't think any of them notice it. Obviously, _you_ don't." He snickered slightly. "I don't know why you do it, but I always thought of it as a defensive skin." He shrugged again before pointing towards the rocks. "Ready to give it a try?"

Rustam took a step back to observe her. She took a hesitant step closer, and he sighed. "No. You need conviction, no hesitation or else they won't listen. The earth is very stubborn. You have to be more so. What happened to that crazy woman who threw her shoes at me?"

Nodding curtly, Jo took a second to breathe and settle her mind. This was just like she'd taught Harry when teaching him to fly. It was just like any spell she'd ever learned. Conviction, conviction, conviction. Staring down the tower of rocks, she took a firm step towards them, nearly a stomp, and released her magic. A flare of yellow escaped her outstretched hand, and…

"Mother's mercy," he groaned and laughed, not in the least surprised by the result after the explosion of magic she'd just expelled.

A column of dirt and rock towered over them, tilting dangerously to the left.

"Cock," Jo mumbled, turning wide eyes on her mentor.

"That's a you problem, little girl!" He was laughing, great bellowing guffaws at her distress.

She turned to stare at the monstrous tower, a terrible creaking and cracking noise breaking through his laughter as it started to lean even more. " _Cock_."

Shaking herself a bit, she took another stomp, and released a little less of her magic. If she told it to go back, it should, right? There wasn't a magic word for this. All she had was the conviction of what she wanted it to do, and she wanted it back in the hole it came from.

"Go back, go back, go back." Wide eyed, she watched as it absorbed her magic, the leaning and terrible creaking coming to a stop. With bated breath, she shouted at it in her mind for a long horrible minute. _Go back in the fucking hole!_

Ever so slowly, to more than her own surprise, the ground began to shake and grumble as it began to recede, bit by bit, back into the chasm it had exploded from. Rustam felt his mouth drop open in shock. The hand outstretched, to fix it for her, falling to his side uselessly.

When the column had finally settled, only the cracks left as evidence, he snapped his mouth shut just in time for his 'apprentice' to turn her eyes on him. She opened her mouth, but stopped. Eyes squeezing shut and hand coming to her head, she swayed suddenly. He moved to catch her, but once again, she took care of it, stomping a foot out to catch herself.

"My bad," she rasped, giggling slightly in a clearly delirious state. "I _fucked_ up." She burst into laughter, falling onto her bum as she just giggled and snorted. He knew she had really exhausted herself, body and core completely unaccustomed to such exertion, but he couldn't help join in on the laughter.

"That was definitely something, little girl." He wasn't one for touching, but he felt she deserved at least one pat on the back. Setting aside how dangerous and stupid that it had been, he was officially impressed. Waving over the only teenager in their pit, he barked at her to help him with his mess of an apprentice. "Let's get you home. You'll need at least a day to recover from that. Idiot."

"Jackass." She sounded much less giggly, exhaustion clearly pulling her down from that little high. She was sound asleep before they'd even left the pit.

Rustam considered the English woman, dropping her sideways on her bed without concern. She flopped uselessly onto her stomach, drool already running from her mouth. She looked a right mess, covered head to toe in dirt and dust with her hair in a tangled mess.

She had a long way to go, and he had only a month to teach her. Impressed or not, he knew the limitations of her body much better than she did, obviously. She had potential at least. More importantly, she had a will, that stubbornness their kind were known for. He had a feeling she'd be back in the morning, borderline useless and exhausted, but she'd be there.

They needed a lot more time than a month.

* * *

Huffing, he threw a blanket somewhat over her before stomping out of the residence. He'd have to really push her, disregarding all the boundaries to really make any headway. She needed to be at least capable of holding her own against their youngest before he could trust her to train on her own back in her country. It would be an interesting month, for the both of them.

"So."

Jo stomped her right foot, releasing a _tiny_ burst of magic as Rustam had shown her this morning. A small boulder, no bigger than her head, lifted itself from the ground. She fumbled a bit, the boulder dropping suddenly as she switched control to her hand. Releasing a breath of relief when it stopped a few centimeters before the ground, she raised it back up with her left hand.

" _What_." Over the last few days, she'd discovered he had an extreme dislike of answering questions. He didn't find making conversation of any sort enjoyable, only barking an order and receiving an answer. It was rather funny. Actually, he reminded her slightly of Cole. Just a touch grumpier and more grumbly.

"Why do you talk so different from the others?" She had three small boulders now, each of them levitating almost waist high in a row before her. Sweat was already dripping down her forehead and back, the weight of three boulders pulling heavily on her magic. Gritting her teeth, she started to lift them higher, arms shaking in the exertion as the rocks wobbled about.

"Watch it, you're losing-"

All three boulders crashed into the dirt, two of them cracking and splintering into multiple pieces. Rustam sighed, but he couldn't say he was disappointed. She was doing very well for only a little over a week of training. His apprentice, on the other hand, scowled and exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly irritated with her 'failure'.

"Calm down, little girl. You're not going to get it on the first try. Give your magic some time to strengthen up before you start throwing a fit." He snorted when she scrunched her face in what was undeniably a pout.

"Right," she sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she sat in a meditation pose. He had advised her to take a break after every give out, meditation being a key tool for relaxing and replenishing her core. Closing her eyes, she tried to settle her breathing and relax the frazzled magic crashing around inside.

After another hour of trial and ultimate failure, Rustam suggested they stop for the day. As apparently was their new custom, he left with her and walked near her back to her residence. He adamantly refused to admit he was walking her back to keep an eye on her.

"I was raised in America." He didn't look at her, intent on picking a few sharp rocks from under his thumb nail. "I figured you had noticed by now that I was speaking English."

"Ah. No, actually. Put a translator spell on us, so everyone sounds like they're speaking English. You just, ehm, sound different. From the others." She gave him a tired little smile. "What brought you here then?"

"My father died in a car crash when I was eleven. He was a mundane, and my mother left here to live a mundane life with him. When he died, though, she returned. They think his blood is the reason I'm an Earth identity. All of us who are have a parent from outside of the city. Same with the ice-holes, too." Finally, he looked at her, squinting like he was looking for something. Perhaps he expected her to pity him or scorn him. She knew what that was like, to be looked at as an outsider in her own home. It seems that their cultures share some similarities after all.

"Right, the infamous ice-holes. Still have yet to meet one, I believe. You talked them up as some gang of bastards, always picking fights. I'm starting to think you made that up." She snorted when he only gave her a dry look.

"Don't you worry, little girl. They'll make their usual rounds before you leave, I can guarantee that." He gave a gruff little chuckle, a smirk that looked just a touch too violent to be pleasant. "You'll see what I'm talking about then."

She just hummed in response, exhaustion starting to pull her brain into baseline operation.

"Get some rest. Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow." As per his new usual, he waved her off in front of her residence, scuffing a barefoot back and forth in the dirt as he waited for her to open the door.

Harry was waiting just inside, face peeling of sunburn. He smiled brightly, instantly launching into a tale about the day he'd had. A tired smile stretched at her mouth, a yawn bubbling up her throat as she let him pull her into the living area. She collapsed onto the couch, brain pleasantly content to just listen as he told her about some four armed fire breathing monkey that he had found.

* * *

Poppy and Harry had decided today would be a family day. Jo had _somehow_ earned a day of reprieve from her training, and the two were prepared to take full advantage of it. Jo had made it clear that this vacation was for them, and she wanted them to do whatever they could to enjoy it. Well, they wanted a day with her.

Although, they were merciful enough to grant her a lie-in. Considering she hadn't slept through a sunrise in nearly three weeks.

"Oh, wow." Jo's surprised voice made the boy and elf share a smug smile. They'd stumbled on this surprise some days ago, and it seemed perfect for their 'family day'.

Jo hadn't a clue what the two were up to when they drug her out of the house that morning and loaded onto a couple of sarabs. Truthfully, she'd wanted to spend the day lounging around and resting her sore body. However, she was damn happy she hadn't.

The oasis was _beautiful_. It was just on the other side of the mountain, only a half hour journey for the quick birds. Hidden beneath the shade of a cluster of trees sat a small pool of the most pure blue. Quite a few animals, magical and mundane, lazed around the edges. She had a feeling this was a man-made attraction, if the small fountain in the center was anything to go by. Perhaps it was the stone benches in the water that gave it away. Either way, she didn't much care as the three quickly jumped in and breathed great sighs of content.

"Alright then," the witch flicked some water at the boy. "Go on and tell me. How'd you two even find this place?"

"Well, it was Poppy, actually."

"Yes, Poppy be seeing people leave during the hot times." The elf nodded along, ears wrapped up in a bright pink swimmers cap with a set of goggles strapped over her eyes. "They come back with wet hair and clothes, so Poppy follow them. The family was very nice, although Poppy couldn't understand a word they be saying. They be showing Poppy how to find the pool, and Poppy brought Young Harry the next day."

"Yeah, I even met some of the children that live near us. They were fun, but they had to go train the rest of the week. I know one of them was in the water training area. His name was Poppan-"

"Ponnappan," Poppy corrected mildly.

"Right, Ponnappan. He was fun. He could make the water into waves and make these little water spouts in the air." His eyes widened with clear admiration of the other boy's magic. Jo had a feeling he was rather taken by it.

As he told her more and more about all of the 'cool' things he'd seen the water identities do, she began to wonder if she should be thinking about his ability with this style of magic. It would be radically different from what he would learn in Hogwarts, but if he started now, before learning how to use a wand, would it be easier? They had two more years until he would go off to school, would that be enough time?

She should discuss it was Daljeet.

"Poppy, you know I could have performed a translation spell for you if you had asked."

Harry and Jo stared in equal perplexity as the elf blushed a deep purple.

"Poppy did not think of that, Mistress."

After the oasis, Harry and Poppy drug Jo all over the city. She was finally able to sample all of the wonderful and strange cuisine from the street vendors. Poppy, now able to communicate with the people, grilled the poor workers endlessly about recipes, cookware, and where to find the best ingredients. She also requested permission to join them the next day and be taught properly. Polite as she may be, the cooks found the small creature just a tad too intimidating to decline her.

Next, they visited the temple. Daljeet found them exploring the large room full of tapestries. He happily told the story behind each one. Just like the portraits at home, their tapestries were a depiction of real people, but they were limited with their interaction. The subject could not speak and their scene was very short before resetting. Jo was curious if they had ever switched to paintings. The old man and witch wound up in a _long_ discussion about the process and differences between the two.

India, after the separation, had indeed closed themselves away from the modern world. Many spells had been forgotten or lost, just as their elemental magic had been for her people. In the end, she promised to send him a book with the spellwork once home, plus any others he desired. It felt like a small gift in comparison for everything he has done for her.

After leaving the temple, Harry suggested going to the mountain. Jo had, unsurprisingly, put her foot down against that idea. She'd had quite enough of the mountain, and knowing the next morning she'd hike its muddy trails, had little desire for it on her day off. Somehow, they ended up at the training pits instead.

Jo watched in amusement as Harry greeted at least one person in the three main pits, realizing he spent a lot more time here than she had anticipated. They ate a late lunch on a raised piece of stone, something Jo felt quite proud of, overlooking the wall of the air identities. They watched as a group of young teens, probably around twelve or thirteen, trained and sparred one another. It was particularly interesting for the witch to watch another identity, especially with how differently they interacted with their element.

Once the air identities were done with their training, the three took their leave of the training pits. Poppy, quite done with being in the sun, chose to return to the residence and begin preparing dinner. Harry and Jo decided to take a slow walk around the city, exploring the nooks and crannies they had missed that first day.

Harry led the way, walking her down cramped alleys and over low walls. She was amused, though slightly concerned thinking about what exactly he had been up to while she was busy. He showed her alcoves that had been turned into shrines to the Mother, covered in preserved flowers and bright paints. There was a shop that sold exclusively non-electrical muggle items that he had discovered. Another shop sold flying carpets, in which Jo had to deliver the disappointing fact that they were banned in Britain to the puppy dog eyed boy and cashier. She did, however, let him buy an animated elephant that shot water out of its trunk.

Finally, they returned to their home away from home. The whole house was full of black smoke and the terrible stench of burnt food. Clearing the air, they found Poppy wailing in despair at the only dish she had ever ruined in her entire life. "Poppy followed the recipe!" Once they'd calmed the distressed elf down, she relented to allowing Jo to take them out for dinner as well.

That night, the only night since she had began training, Jo stared at the ceiling as her mind refused to quiet down. Physically, she was exhausted. Mentally and magically, however, she was still chalk-full of it all. Images, _memories_ , danced behind her eyes, agitation causing her teeth to clench. She'd gone almost their entire stay without even a single dream. Every day, she'd return home with just enough energy to eat and listen to Harry and Poppy tell her about their days, then hit the pillow with her eyes already shut.

Deep down, she knew the nightmares and _thinking_ hadn't gone. No, she knew, she'd just hoped they would stay away. Is this the only way she was to get rid of them? By exhausting herself so completely she couldn't function enough to even dream. Her magic and core may be better than she had ever hoped for, but inside of her own head? Merlin, she's a fucking wreck. Could she ever fix it?

"Is it even fixable?," she mumbled to the dark ceiling, eyes stinging as uncertainty gripped her.

 _ **Oh dear, are we talking to ourselves now?**_

Jo squeezed her eyes shut. It had been so long since she'd heard it. Months of nightmares and sleepless nights, but no voice chilling her from within. Why now?

 _ **You can't ignore me, sweetheart. You can't ignore yourself.**_

Well, yes. Yes she bloody well could. Nearly a decade of drinking herself to death proved she could very well ignore herself.

But this _thing_ wasn't her. She wouldn't accept that.

 _ **You will. One day. You'll see. I'm always here, always have been.**_

Throwing the covers off, she started pulling on clothes and boots, intent on getting out of this room. If the voice is here, she would go somewhere else.

 _ **Isn't that dull. You can't run away from yourself, dear. It's physically impossible.**_

"Shut up."

Harry woke suddenly to the sound of boots stomping against the floor. He could hear Jo's low voice mumbling, tone harsh. Suddenly, she walked past his bedroom door, fully clothed and face set. He heard the door creak open and shut, her footsteps crunching farther and farther away. Where was she going? Intent on following her, Harry jumped out of his own bed. However, Poppy appeared next in his doorway. She smiled gently, holding a mug of steaming coco.

"Mistress be alright. She will be back soon, Poppy knows it."

Jo cursed, knees hitting the dirt as she stumbled on the rocky terrain. The sky was clear and the waning moot bright, but under the thick foliage of the mountain's trees, it was nearly black. She could hear the voice mocking her, scorning her for this stupidity, but she didn't care. She knew where she needed to go. What she needed to do. And through the thick curtain of vines and leaves, she could see the smooth rock illuminated by the moonlight.

Gingerly, she climbed on top of the rock Daljeet usually joined her on, legs folding naturally into her meditation position. Closing her eyes, she let out a slow exhale before inhaling the burning cleansing mountain air.

 _ **What do you think this will accomplish? Nothing, and you damn well know it.**_

"Be _quiet_." Her magic flared, wrapping itself around her in the gentlest embrace. Silence engulfed her. There was no voice. There was no wind. Not even the rushing water of the falls.

Pure wonderful silence.

Under the light of the moon, surrounded by the strength of the mountain, she finally let the tears fall. She let the memories flood and drown her mind. This _thing_ inside of her wanted her to remember, to see it all every night.

Fine, she would.

She would remember every last detail. Every moment of love and happiness tainted by the war. The burning anger and thirst for justice. The pain and absolute wonder of bringing another life into this world. The suffocating grief of losing this precious person she created and the man she brought into a warring world he didn't belong to. The shock of her family being wiped away in the blink of an eye. The agony of watching all of her friends and allies being picked off like flies.

The sick pleasure she felt when they returned the favor. That dark twisted part of her that sought out to end the lives of those who had supported her loved ones' murders.

Once all of those memories had beaten and bloodied her mind, each wracking sob partnered to a moment in the past, did she finally feel tired. Tired and empty. Apparently, her brain knew what she needed, though.

Her exhausted and torn mind thought of Harry, giggling quietly as he mouthed the words to the funnies section. It thought of Poppy, always the strong anchor, caring for Jo with all of her being. It thought of Katie and her three wonderful children, invading her home with their laughter and tantrums and love. It thought of Ted and Andromeda, a helping hand and ready ear whenever she may need. It even thought of Healer Nyaga and his brilliant smile.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. A tiny smile pulled at her lips when she saw a strange dog, with the legs of a deer and small antler nubs, watching her curiously from below. Its stubby deer tail began to wag, a peculiar whining bark leaving its mouth.

"Right. I've got to move on, don't I?" It made the strange bark again, body beginning to wiggle with the force of its wagging. "Don't have to forget, just have to start living for now. I've got a family, you know? It's not the one I imagined, back then, but it's a family I love. That's better than drinking myself into the grave, yeah?"

Sighing, she felt herself smile a little more even as her heart broke at the thought. It was time to put this all back in the past, where it belongs. Even her Lucy and Cole. Her heart could remember them on its own. It wasn't a betrayal, no matter how much she felt it was. It wasn't a betrayal to live. She wasn't doing Harry or Poppy any favors by keeping so much of herself locked in the past with the dead.

They needed her now, and now is where she needed to be.

* * *

"So."

She glanced up curiously, more than surprised by his easy tone. Slowly, she turned, five thin stone slabs circling with her. "…So."

Rustam stared down at her from atop his boulder, great fuzzy eyebrows raised in curiosity. He seemed to be thinking a great deal about how to say whatever it is he wanted to ask, chin wagging left-to-right beneath his hand. She raised her eyebrows in response, trying to keep her concentration from breaking as she pushed the stones higher in the air. He essentially had her magically bench pressing the slabs, adding a new slab for each successful set of ten.

"What…why are you here? What brought an English woman to the hidden city to learn about our ways?" He beat a fist against the boulder, releasing yet another sliver of stone to add to her set. She nearly lost it, though, concentration faltering at his sudden question. Once she'd regained control, the strain of six slabs weighing heavily on her magic, her mind wondered how to even answer.

"...There was a war, it started when I was a teenager. A dark magic user rose to power, amassing a large following. They had a lot of elitist beliefs they wanted to see instated into our society, and they wanted anyone in their way to die. My family died, many of my school friends as well. Two people, the final two to fall to the leader of the movement, were my boy's parents." She paused, looking for any recognition on his face, but all she found was his usual stone-carved expression, patiently waiting for her to continue. "Anyways, I didn't cope very well with the end of the war. I was alone…angry…. I gave up magic and drank my days away. In case you're wondering, that is the number one way, I've discovered, to completely erode and weaken your core to a nearly nonexistent state."

"So, after eight years of that depressing bullshit, here comes my boy, just appearing in my life. One thing leads to another, I start using my magic again, and now I've got a kid living under my roof and family's name. Go on and have a bad night, boom goes my magic. Some months later, Daljeet appears in my healers office spouting on and on about this Mother and hands me this strange little cube. Says to me that the Mother blocked my magic, that I needed to…"

"Hit rock bottom?" He added another stone to her set, mouth setting in a firm line as she shrugged. She couldn't speak under the new weight, only completing three lifts before her magic released the overload. Rustam gave her a moment to rest, scrutinizing the woman as she sank to the dirt on shaky legs. "So Daljeet brought you here?"

She shrugged again before shaking her head. "No, that was months ago when he came. He offered to help me, but I refused. Actually, I'd hit a bit of a wall with my healer back home, and it was 'suggested' that I should explore a more unconventional path. I…did _not_ anticipate this shit." She gave a dry chuckle, rubbing a hand aggressively against her forehead. He noticed that about her quickly, she always seemed to have a headache.

"Lavender."

"What?"

"On the mountain, there's a small valley full of moon lavender. Make it into tea. It's good for headaches." He scratched at the scruff on his chin again, shrugging when she looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "My wife would make me fetch it every time she was pregnant." She hummed in response, shooting him a small smile in thanks.

"Come on, sun's getting low. Might as well call it a day."

* * *

It was their final day in India. Naturally, that meant Daljeet would wake her an hour earlier than usual for their hike up the mountain. He smiled brightly at her, watching in amusement as she tried to find the energy to glare. She slowly sipped a mug of coffee, awareness gradually entering her eyes as Poppy served them breakfast.

"Today is your last day, Miss Jo. Daljeet is sad to see you and your family go." She hummed and nodded in response, eyes passing him over to watch as Harry stumbled into the kitchen area. "There is a festival tonight, our greatest festival of the year. It is the 'Mother's Blessing'. We would be honored if you and your family would attend before you depart."

"Of course we be going. Master has welcomed us, it be the polite thing to do," Poppy answered quickly, waving a wooden spoon at her Mistress when she opened her mouth full of food. "Mistress does not speak with a mouth full of food!" Jo made an obnoxious show of chewing and swallowing, earning a tired giggle from Harry, who's face was flat against the table.

"Like the dictator said, of course we'll come. It would be an honor." Daljeet smiled happily in response, promising it would be the likes of which they had never seen. Really, everything about this place had already fulfilled that promise. Jo had a hard time imagining what that meant for this festival.

Once Poppy had forced some food down Harry's half asleep throat, the three set out for their daily hike. The sky had just begun to lighten with the rising sun, the soft glows of pinks and purples gently waking the English pair as they ambled through the city. A lizard with three heads scurried along ahead of them, one head turned to hiss and spit at them as they walked. Daljeet shooed it away with a chuckle, ducking through large leaves to lead them onto the worn trail.

"Even mundane creatures with little magic end up here. As you can see." The old man was rambling about the mountain being home to many creatures. The ley lines running below it acting as a call for wayward or lost beings. He pointed towards a tree packed with birds along every branch. "The mountain is an oasis, a place of peace for all those in need of a home." Harry eagerly clicked away on his camera, asking the old man about every species.

"Is that a firebird?" Jo interrupted, pointing to a small bird with great swooping feathers of orange and gold on its head.

"Ah, yes. That would be a hoo-hoo, very rare. He must have been incredibly lost to end up here." Daljeet offered an arm, whistling and clicking to try and coax it closer. The adolescent bird peered down on the human curiously, releasing a high sing-song chatter before turning its head away with disinterest. "Oh well, perhaps next time." He smiled easily before turning and resuming their trek.

"So…is that why the dogs come to our house, Jo? Is it on a ley line?" Harry missed her grimace, too busy keeping an eye out for more interesting animals.

"Oh? Miss Jo, you did not tell me! However did you build a house on a ley line? That must have taken an incredible amount of magic." Daljeet turned back to face her with interest, walking backwards through the thick foliage.

"Ehm, yeah. I mean, no, it's not built on a ley line." She tried not to squirm under the old man's intensely curious stare. Unfortunately, he had this terrible habit of being impressively patient and capable of very limited blinking, staring her down until she finally answered. "It's built on all of them."

Daljeet paused in his walking, staring at her with an unreadable expression. She kept her face passive, shrugging when he didn't speak. Harry watched the two stare at one another, ruffling his hair when the silence dragged on. Suddenly, Daljeet burst into laughter, shaking a finger at the witch, who smiled awkwardly in response.

"That was a good one. You almost had Daljeet fooled." He snorted a bit, still giggling as he finally turned away to continue the trek. " 'All of them' she says, pfft."

Releasing a small breath of relief, Jo continued walking, giving Harry an exasperated look. She thought he knew better than to bring up their house in front of others. He ruffled his hair again, shrugging in confusion at her distress.

"But, is that why the dogs come to the house?" He had the decency to at least ask quietly this time.

"That's my guess. All of the dogs with a noticeable amount of magic, at least. They'd have to be magical to find the house. Poppy thinks they come in through the World Room, even though the entrances are warded." Honestly, it was a mystery, one her parents and grandfather had puzzled over endlessly. She'd just accepted it. What little girl wouldn't want a mob of pups sneaking into her room every night to cuddle and play? She'd seen a great many other animals too; cats, snakes, birds, a few nifflers, even a hippogriff once, but the dogs were the only ones to seek out human interaction.

"So Taffy…"

"Has enough magic to have sniffed out the house, yes."A little smile pulled at Harry's lips, obviously pleased with the confirmation. He knew she wasn't an ordinary dog.

"Unfortunately," Jo continued, frowning as she watched Daljeet's head tilt in a way that had her thinking he was trying to eavesdrop. "Dogs aren't recognized as magical familiars for Hogwarts, which means-"

"Taffy can't go with me?" Quick as a snap, his little smile dropped into a pout, disappointment clear for all to see.

"Sorry, kid. Unless they change the century old rules in two years, Taffy's gonna have to stay home with me." He let out a little whine, arms waving just a bit in frustration before he heaved a great big sigh. His pout slowly disappeared, resignation in his eyes as he slowly nodded. "No worries, I like to think I am rather good with dogs. She'll be okay."

"I know, I just love her. She's the only dog I've ever…and she always listens and you can tell she understands." He gave her another little pout. "She's my best friend."

 _Aw_ , Jo couldn't help the thought, smiling sadly. "She'll be your best friend no matter what, I promise." She ruffled his hair, earning herself a playful glare and a swat, but it coaxed a little smile out of him.

Their moment came to a close, though. Daljeet had already seated himself on the rock by the pond, waiting patiently for Jo to join him. She gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze, sending him off to explore before climbing up to meditate. As they joined hands, eyes closing to the outside world, Jo already knew she wouldn't find the heart of the mountain today either.

* * *

Daljeet trailed after the ash haired witch with a tiny smile, watching as she searched high and low for her boy. He had wandered further than usual today, but Daljeet was not worried. He was a smart boy, and the man had confidence he would not have done something too dangerous.

Thankfully, the boy's disappearance offered Jo a distraction for the unsurprising but still disappointing feeling of failure. She had not reached the mountain, but her magic had extended much farther than the first day. Daljeet thought that she had come a long way in a very short amount of time. Perhaps it was not something she had realized, the gradual growth she had made, but he could recognize the differences. She no longer wheezed and stumbled up the mountain, but instead, she confidently walked without shoes all the way up and back down. After the mountain, she would go directly to the pits to train. He had not seen her growth there, but Rustam had given his reports on her advancements.

Actually, he'd only given one. 'Yeah, the little girl's alright.'

Daljeet was of the opinion that this was high praise from the surly man.

"What the fu-"

Daljeet looked up in surprise when the woman cut off with sputters and coughs. He could hear Harry, apologizing profusely, feet obviously splashing through water. Wandering towards the noise, he found the woman, soaked head to toe, sat on the ground staring wide eyed at the nervous and blushing boy hidden behind large leaves.

"Y-you were…when did you even…" She opened and shut her mouth a couple more times, just staring in shock at Harry. "And you didn't bloody tell me?" Harry looked down, face turning guilty and feet beginning to shuffle. He didn't want her to be angry with him. "That is so damn cool. How could you not _tell_ me?"

"Wait." he looked up with a confused frown. "You're not mad at me?"

"I mean," Jo finally stood back up, waving her right wand to quickly dry herself. "I'm a little disappointed I had to find out this way." She flashed him a little smirk, and he relaxed even more at the sight of it. "Why would I be mad? Make me a damn hypocrite, wouldn't it?"

Daljeet watched the two go back and forth, still dearly confused by the whole situation. "Excuse me, but what exactly is happening right now? Daljeet is very curious."

Jo just shook her head, smiling encouragingly at Harry. "Well go on then, show us."

Ruffling his hair, Harry looked between the two nervously. Jo waved him on with a nod. He returned it, and led them back into the forest. Daljeet and Jo quickly followed, only stopping once he started wading into an ankle high stream. He peeked back at them, stomach feeling unusually twisty as they stared with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention towards the slowly moving water.

Harry slowly raised both arms, a small pale blue stream of energy leaving his hands to shakily meeting the water. The old man let out a little laugh when a wriggling unrefined glob of water gradually separated from the stream. With unsteady, amateur movements, the boy kept his right arm extended while drawing the left close to his chest. Turning slowly, he pulled the water around towards them. Once he had completed the turn, the water remained in the air for only a second longer before the weight became too strong, and he lost control. It fell with a splash back into the stream, Harry nervously smiling while Jo let out a raspy laugh and clapped.

"Mother's breath, he's a water identity." The two were not listening to him, though. She was too busy interrogating him of 'when, how, why didn't you tell me?' Daljeet was mostly curious of the how.

"It was the old blind man, at the temple. The first day? He led me into some strange room, and he had me pick up some small wooden block. It turned into water, just poof, a little block of water. It was so strange, almost like jello! I thought it would splash all over me at first." Harry spoke quickly, looking between the adults for their reactions. Jo's face had turned strange, as if she was forcing her smile to stay on her face while her eyebrows crinkled with worry.

"That would be Master Jum. He is the keeper of the _Brahmaan Aankh."_ Reading the clear worry on Jo's face, he laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He would never harm a child. Daljeet believes he felt Harry's magic, and sought to show him his identity. Children are given a ceremony on their fifth birthday here, and they are introduced to their magic's identity. Being the keeper of the _Brahmaan Aankh,_ he has an incredible sense of finding those who have not undergone the ceremony."

"Right. Okay, brilliant." Exhaling sharply through her nose, Jo gave Harry a soft yet stern look. "Probably best if you don't go off with strangers anymore." Harry nodded quickly, understanding in his eyes that Jo was serious and worried. "Okay, now tell me how you even learned to do that."

As they trekked back down the mountain, Harry told them of how he and Poppy would watch the training pits every morning. When Poppy had returned home for a few days, Harry had plucked up the courage to approach the youngest of the water identities. He'd watched them for days, but didn't understand how they did any of it.

The girl had almost brushed him off until he'd told her about the old man and the cube. Still reluctant, she'd promised to show him the basics if he met her by the pit at dawn the next morning. It wasn't until the third day that he'd been able to even lift a drop of water. After that, she'd merely dumped a scroll into his lap and wished him luck. He'd practiced every chance he had, reading the scroll every night and watching the water pit every morning.

He thought it best not to mention his begging Poppy not to tell when she'd found him practicing in the bath.

* * *

"First form." Rustam barked the command from his usual place, lounging on top of the giant boulder.

Jo aggressively stomped her right foot, releasing a careful amount of magic through the sole. A short jagged pillar of rock burst from the ground. Flexing left her arm into a 90 degree angle, she lifted the rock until it hung suspended in the air at eye level.

"Third form."

She stomped her foot again, erecting a second pillar behind her. Flexing her right arm, the pillar copied its brother as it lifted into the air.

"Fifth form."

Drawing both arms close, the two pillars closed in on her, slowing spinning in a circle.

"Sixth."

She crossed her arms into an X, her teeth beginning to clench as the strain of the rocks weight pulled on her magic. The spinning began to accelerate, growing faster and faster until the pillars blurred together as a continuous rock tornado.

"Eighth form!"

Releasing a slow breath, she extended both arms to her side with force. The pillars crumbled instantly, a wall of dust spinning around her.

"Good. You know what to do." He had sat up straight now, observing her with a critical eye, ever vigilant for any dangerous mishaps.

Nodding once, she suddenly pivoted, swinging her arms in an arc over her head. The wall of dust quickly followed, transforming into a tubal current as she directed it. Down, up, left, right; she widened and shortened it, created separate currents then brought them back together. It never faltered.

Finally, eyeing the smooth slab of rock standing as a target, she extended her left arm. The dust spiraled, clumping closer and closer together into a spear of tiny rocks. The ricochet of sharp pebbles digging into the surface of the stone echoed like fireworks across the pit.

She relaxed her stance quickly, trying to hide the deep gulping breaths she was taking. Sweat soaked hair to her neck and the shirt to her back. The muscles in her arms shook from the exertion, but she smiled. She'd done it, perfectly, and that felt pretty fucking fantastic, right now.

"Great. Now fix the slab." Her ever inspiring mentor gave her a thumbs up, sliding down the boulder at a sloth's pace. Groaning, Jo gave an easy stomp, the small pebbles pulling out of the stone before dropping to the ground with quiet pitter patters.

Refusing to let him see how shaky her legs were, she walked slowly towards the slab. {lacing her hands flat against its gouged surface, she slowly released a wave of magic. The holes filled with the shards and slivers that had been released by the impact. It took nearly ten minutes for the slab to return to its smooth and immaculate state.

"Missed a spot."

"No I didn't. Stop being a jackass."

"Yes you did. See, right there."

"That's just a shadow."

"Uh huh, and I'm a professional seeker for Oasaka Axolotls."

"I didn't know jackasses could fly a broom."

As per usual, he walked her all the way back to her residence. As per usual, she got to smirk and laugh to herself as she watched him get pummeled by eight children two doors down. Unusually, she had a small ache at the realization today would be the last day with the hard faced unpleasant jackass. Laughter dying rather quickly, her smile turned sad as she watched him grumble and grizzle as children laughed and climbed all over him. His wife easily cleared a path through the mayhem, laying a hand against his cheek with a loving smile. The old grump melted right into it, smiling only for her as they fought through their offspring into the house.

Stepping inside, she found Harry and Poppy right inside, both wearing flowers and colorful clothing. She just raised an eyebrow when Poppy held up a bright orange shirt clearly intended for her.

"It be for the festival, Mistress."

"Yeah, everyone's dressed like this." Harry tugged at the collar of his bright red shirt, smirking at her grimace.

"Right. The festival." She'd nearly forgotten about the festival. She desperately just wanted to bathe and rest, body aching after a rough day of training.

"Come, Mistress. We don't have much time before the festival begins!"Poppy clucked and tutted the witch into the house, a filled bathtub and levitating sponge waiting for her.

* * *

Harry pulled Jo along excitedly, completely oblivious to her frown as they quickly approached the overflowing throng of people. The entire city was here, packed tightly together as they approached the mountain. A large arch had been constructed, marking the entrance to the festival. There had to be an expansion charm of some sort at work because she was positive there was no way all of these people could fit inside that small space. Sighing quietly, Jo tried to settle her twisting and tightening stomach as they joined the _many_ people.

Poppy held onto her Mistress's other hand, staring in wonder at the many colors and stands. Drums and flutes filled the air, the music enticing the people to sway and stamp their feet. There were many children running about, laughing and shouting as they weaved between legs. A sudden bang echoed through the area, laughter following as men chased young teens away from the fireworks tent. A wayward firework suddenly sparkled above their heads, the colors nearly invisible in the sunset. Grey eyes watching with curiosity as the flares fell back to the earth, the little elf found something much more interesting in the sky.

"Oh my…" Harry and Jo turned curiously at Poppy's breathless words, the elf's wide eyes turned far from the festival and high above their heads. Their eyes followed her gaze, up up up, and even further still. High above their heads, just barely breaking the cover of clouds, flew a creature of the likes none of them had ever seen in person.

"Holy-"

"Shit." Harry didn't even flinch at the light cuff around his ears, too mesmerized by the beast in the sky.

The sound of mighty wings beating echoed over them, thunder booms of air breaking holes through the clouds. Scales of the brightest blue, no they're green- no wait, they've turned purple- shimmered in the dying sun as the beast elegantly danced through the wind, slowly descending over the hundreds of heads upturned to watch. Its great tail swished quickly along making the great creature appear as if it was swimming through the sky instead of flying.

Finally, to the complete silent awe of the crowd below, it came to a graceful landing, remaining high above their heads, on the eye of the mountain. Fearsome jaws split apart, showcasing hundreds if not thousands of deadly sharp fangs, the glow of fire emitting from the depths of its belly into its throat.

"It's a bloody dragon," Jo whispered, still unsure if this was even real.

The great beast finished yawning, bright violet eyes lazily sweeping over the crowd of people before it simply lowered its head. Like a great big house cat, it flopped onto its side, still maintaining an air of self-importance. Stretching all four claws and tail, an air piercing whine-near-purr of content rumbled through the air.

"The Mother's Eyes have arrived! IT IS TIME!"

The cry came from somewhere far in the front of the crowd, and the reaction was instantaneous. The beat of drums and whistling of flutes started once again, cheering and shouts of excitement filled the air. People began stamping their feet and clapping their hands as they pressed closer to the mountain. Jo kept a strong grip of Poppy and Harry, the three being carried along easily by the exuberant crowd. There was a chant starting, growing louder by the second as the energy surrounding them began to take on a more _magical_ feel.

"The Mother watches. The Mother watches. The Mother watches."

Jo found her mouth suddenly forming the words, the sudden urge to add her voice to the many becoming overpowering. Her body felt light, as if her flesh had disappeared so her spirit could celebrate unencumbered. Somewhere, in the back of her high-flying mind, she wondered if this was wrong. Unnatural.

But it felt so… _free_. Her mind felt light and happy, soul connecting with the hundreds around her. She couldn't shake the _rightness_ engulfing her.

She felt a tug on her hand, instantly turning to find Harry smiling brightly at her. _Was he glowing?_ His bright green eyes glittered at her like two little stars. His face and arms had a shine to them, a bright dazzling blue dancing along his skin. He was shouting something at her, but she couldn't hear him over the chanting surrounding them. "What?!"

"Y-re…-ing!" He laughed, pointing at her chest.

Looking to Poppy, she found the elf in a similar state as the kid. She was smiling just the same, pearl skin sparkling under the darkening skies and grey eyes shimmering pools of moonlight.

"Mistress be glowing!"

Jo quickly looked at her own skin, finding a faint yellow sparkling along her arms and legs. Glancing around, the three found every person and creature near them in the same state. Varying colors sparkling along their skin, causing the crowd to light up the darkness of dusk.

She should find something wrong with this, it wasn't _normal_ , but she couldn't stop smiling. It all felt so _magical_.

After the last few weeks, this was perhaps just expected. Nothing about this place was normal, and if the smiles on Harry and Poppy's faces were anything to go by, perhaps abnormal wasn't so bad.

Quite suddenly, the chanting stopped, Jo and Harry finding their mouths shutting to an unknown cue. The flutes had stopped, but the drums kept going. The beat matched their heartbeats perfectly, the magic and blood in their veins pumping in time with the bone jarring rhythm. Daljeet stepped onto a the raised platform, barely visible over the crowd between them. He held both hands out to his sides, flames erupting in each palm as he smiled over the people.

"The Mother watches us. Her eyes see all of her children, watching as we celebrate our own children. Tonight shall be glorious, the marvelous and beautiful sights of watching our children step into adulthood! Young ones, shall you show the Mother all you have learned? Show her the wonderful abilities her gift has granted us?"

A swelling current of shouts rose from the front of the crowd. All of the teenagers, ranged fifteen to eighteen stood there, covered from head to toe in ceremonial flowers and paints. Tonight would be their chance to drop the title of apprentice and child, instead gaining the tattoos of a mentor and the respect of adulthood. They were rowdy, filled with adrenaline and magic, and surrounded by the support of their community. Jo could see, even from behind the crowd, they were all _glowing_ ; the brightest stars in this sea of people.

"Then we shall begin!" Daljeet brought his hands together, the flames erupting into a great eye of fire over their heads. The heat bore down on the cheering crowd as smaller balls of fire, water, air, rock, and ice shot into the air beside it.

The three foreigners watched in awe, nearly swept away by the overflowing magic surging around them. The great dragon lifted its head, violet eyes reflecting the dazzling shine of the people down below. Deep inside, something no human word could describe, each and every person understood they were under the watchful eyes of something much greater than they could ever conceive.

The Mother was watching.

Jo, Harry and Poppy followed the example of the others in the back of the crowd, climbing onto rock piles and crates to better see the performances in the front. Each teenager would walk through an archway designated to their element identity. If they could successfully pass through, they would advance onto a platform beneath the dragon's perch. It looked like the youngest went first, more than half of the apprentices being turned away under the arches by some magic unknown to the foreigners. Only three advanced through the arches of the group: an air identity, a fire identity, and an ice identity.

The first to approach the dragon was air identity, his face and arms glowing silver. He bowed to the dragon, a great burst of air exploding around him as he stood and began his test. The air swept around him, circling into a tornado that lifted him into the air.

His movements were so very different from anything Jo had learned, his body relaxed and actions seeming random. His right arm would raise languidly, a great spiraling ball of compressed air shooting out like a cannon. He kicked his left leg sharply, a teasing gust of air swooping from behind to flip him backwards. Graceful and unhampered, his displays always a surprise and incapable of guessing. His finishing move, a beautiful swan formed of compressed air, gliding over their heads to disappear into the clouds.

Harry sucked in a breath, watching in earnest hope to witness the boy gain his tattoo. Jo had to force herself not to scream when the dragon opened those lethal jaws, releasing a stream of blue and white flames onto the boy. The crowd released a mighty cheer, chanting the boy's name as he emerged unscathed with a brilliant smile. He held up both hands for all to see, a glowing blue symbol burned into the palms. He quickly left the platform, many hands clapping his shoulders and rubbing his head in congratulations as he joined the mentors.

The fire identity, a girl, took his place, and bowed to the great dragon. Just like the boy, Jo was struck by the difference in her form. She straightened from her bow, jumping and twisting in the air with a striking kick. A great ball of purple flame erupted from the sole of her foot, circling up her body. She quickly grabbed it above her head, separating it into two orbs of fire.

The flames licked up her arms, creating an eruption of fiery breath behind her. She moved quickly, fluidly, and with the precision of a predator. The fire never left the platform, always circling around her, over her, consuming her entire body. She finished with a move reminiscent of fire breathers in the circus. Holding a small flame between her hands, she blew into it, releasing a blazing purple rose over the crowd.

The spectators held their breath as the dragon loomed over her. However, Its jaws stayed firmly shut. It merely nodded to the girl. She did not pass.

The crowd cheered again, words of encouragement floating through the air to wash over the disappointed girl. They promised her it was not a disgrace. The Mother saw more potential within her, she had been granted another year to grow. Her fellow teenagers clapped her on the shoulders, embracing her with comforting smiles. Jo and Harry joined the others in applause and cheers of reassurances.

Soon enough, the people quieted, returning their eyes to the final test. The ice identity, the oldest of the three, stood stoically before the dragon. She bowed. A murmur grew in the crowd when she did not immediately rise. A fine white mist collected around her bent form, shielding her from view as it thickened.

Loud cracking and shattering filled the air as the mist exploded. Shimmering ice crystals surrounded the girl, a frozen wave extending well above her head. She moved slowly, deliberately, gracefully swinging her arms around her waist. The ice wave cracked and groaned, reshaping itself into a snow horse galloping across the ledge. Suddenly, she raised her arms and threw them down, destroying the horse into another frozen wave with lethal edges. Even from here, Jo could see the girl take a deep breath, pausing for only a second. Then, she was a blur.

Hands high up above her head, left arm striking down while the right extended out, twirling on a toe, leaping, crouching; the lead in a dance of ice and snow. Her wave turned to snow, following her dutifully as it transformed into a spear of ice. The spear swooped back around, shattering into fine crystals that froze everything in their wake. She finished with one final deliberate spin, the ice encompassing her within a sphere. Her silhouette within crouched low, and the ice rained down on her in harmless snow flurries.

Once again, the crowd watched in palpable anticipation as the dragon issued its final decision. Flames lit the air. The cheers and clapping of hundreds of people met the girl as she displayed wrists with glowing white symbols.

Harry pulled on her arm, tearing her attention away from the growing excitement of the crowd. He pointed above their heads, Jo just catching the tail of the dragon as it disappeared back into the clouds. They shared bright smiles, hands clasping tighter as the people's magic swept over them again.

"Should we join the fun?"

"Definitely!"

She led Harry and Poppy into the celebration, all three laughing as their magic danced freely with the others'.

Looking back on it, none of the three would ever be able to describe the blur of delicious food, singing and dancing, or the inebriating happiness that overtook the final hours of that night. All they would say is it was unlike anything they had seen before.

* * *

It was well into the night when Daljeet delivered them back to where they had first met. The desert air stung their skin, breaths visible in the chill. Harry, the poor kid, was fast asleep between Jo's arms. Poppy was barely any better, slumped against the neck of her sarab as her eyes fluttered. Dismounting as easily as she could, Jo maneuvered Harry onto her back before rousing Poppy. She handed the lethargic elf the portkey, reminding her she had to open the door for them. Yawning, the elf nodded and bid Daljeet a tired farewell.

"It is sad to say goodbye to you and your family. Daljeet has enjoyed your presence immensely." The old man had a tear in his, smiling sadly as he joined her. Clasping his hands, he bowed slightly. When he straightened, he wiped the tear from his eye with a little chuckle. "Look at Daljeet, crying when this has given him such good memories. It was a true gift watching you grow. You will come back, yes?"

"I imagine so." Smiling, Jo offered a bow of her head. "It was an honor and true gift to be here. Thank you. For Everything. You…I believe you saved me. I will miss you and the city as well."

A shimmer appeared then, the doorway home popping open before them. She could see Poppy waiting tiredly inside, the dogs circled around her in barely contained excitement.

"Until next time, then?" Her throat felt suspiciously thick. She was truly sad to be leaving. Of course, she missed home, but this had been an amazing experience. The people had been kind and so very different from the society she had grown up in. The magic of the city and the people had felt light and _clean_ , untarnished by the ravages of war and prejudice. She was very much going to miss it.

"Until next time, yes. Daljeet will be waiting, Little Mountain." He smiled brightly, those gold teeth shining even in the darkness. "May The Mother watch you wherever you go."

She paused, lips curling into a smile. "She watches all of us, right? We're her children."

He knew she only said it for his sake, that she still didn't believe it, but he appreciated the sentiment. Daljeet watched as they disappeared, another tear collecting in his eye. Hopefully, this would be the beginning for a future their ancestors had hoped to destroy. No more hiding. No more secrets. A future of friendship and peace. Just as The Mother designed it.


	22. Chapter 22 Growing

**A huge shout out to everyone that's recently started following or favorited. It's always a great little rush when I open my e-mail and see those notifications. Of course, for all of you still around, Thank-you so much for the continued support.**

 **BTW, I'm so geeked to be almost done with Part I. I _cannot wait_ to start writing Sirius. So fucking geeked for it, you don't even understand. Geeked enough to use the word geeked, multiple times.**

 **Anyways!**

 **As Always,**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

 **Growing**

 _ **"I think that the best thing we can do for our children is to allow them to do things for themselves, allow them to be strong, allow them to experience life on their own terms, allow them to take the subway...let them be better people, let them believe more in themselves." -C. JoyBell C.**_

* * *

 **September 1989**

Jo sat quietly at the little table in the muggle house, blankly staring through the window at the lazy midday suburb. Nothing of interest was happening, merely a few women walking past or the postman delivering the mail. She just couldn't think of anything to do. Idly, she spun the lukewarm coffee mug round and round on the table. The soft grate of ceramic against wood relaxed her, breaking the growing silence of an empty house.

Technically, she had quite a few things she _should_ be doing. Her motivation had gone missing, however. Venturing into wizarding society left her exhausted and annoyed, especially after the exposure to such a different atmosphere and culture in India. Of course, the stares she attracted weren't particularly helpful, either. She almost preferred the muggle world more. Except, everything she had learned and knew of it was about a decade too old, now. She earned herself plenty of confused or pitying glances simply by the clothes she wore.

It was an experience, found in both worlds, that made her skin itch and chest tighten. Leaving the house was becoming a chore.

Harry had returned to school two days after they had returned. The first day, he had excitedly left Jo behind at the corner, joining Abigail for the remainder of the walk. That was two weeks ago, and since then, she had yet to make it past the corner again. She had to remind herself that this was what kids do, and it wasn't an insult to be taken personally. Just like any child on the precipice of adolescence, even her boy would start protesting her appearance at the school gate every morning.

She just hadn't expected it.

The second time it happened, she may have moped and pouted. Poppy, the _sweet_ thing that she is, only laughed at her. She reminded Jo of the countless times her teenage self had rebuffed the elf's and Jo's father's attempts to take her shopping or even walk beside them on the road. She'd grimaced, viewing those memories with wiser eyes, and feeling irritated with her younger self for wasting such precious moments. Merlin, she had been such a brat.

The third day, she'd returned home still irritated, but she did not mope. Instead, she took that irritation and used it to _finally_ fix the muggle house. That job took over her days for the remainder of the week. The stones and boulders had been stubborn as all hell, refusing her at every turn. After that, she did have to call on some help. Ted had been a good sport, somehow knowing just the right 'handyman' spells to fix the broken pipes.

Today, unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything to do. She'd already trained for the morning, meditating and even going for a long jog. Rustam and Daljeet had gifted her copied scrolls to study, and she'd been making headway into the first one. However, if she'd learned anything from her time in India, it was that she couldn't push her core too fast or hard. Her core was another muscle, and it would take time and proper exercise to see it strengthen.

 _Just like Healer Wolff warned you, dumbass_. Chuckling to herself, she returned to watching the world slowly turn by outside. Perhaps, a day of quiet and rest wasn't such a bad plan.

* * *

"Bloody India!"

Hiding a smile behind her hand, Jo could only watch as Katie worked herself right into a proper scolding. She might _possibly_ deserve it. She had gone and left the country without a word to her best friend, disappearing for a month without any explanation.

"Not a note or a letter. Not even a damn smoke signal. I was worried _sick._ " Katie glared accusingly at her friend, hands popped on her hips and foot tapping impatiently. "Do you even _realize_ , best friend of mine, what type of terrible thoughts went through my mind?"

"Oh, shove off. You cannot expect me to believe you thought I was dead."

"What if you had been kidnapped?"

"Well, clearly-"

"Or fell off of a cliff?"

"Why would-"

"Or burned to death in a volcano?!"

Jo leveled her friend with the driest expression, fighting an exasperated laugh at that particularly mental exclamation.

"Oh, don't you give me that look, Josephine Cyp-"

"Ah, there's no need for middle names, Katherine Elea-"

The blonde witch leaped across the table, smothering her now chuckling best friend's mouth with another fierce glare. "Don't you dare."

She could tell Jo was over the dramatics now, sapphire eyes rolling as she sighed deeply through her nose. With a menacing point, Katie slowly removed her hand, squawking with disgust when Jo swiped her tongue across it.

"You're sick."

"And you're annoying. It's what we do."

"Fair enough." Katie wiped her hand off on Jo's sleeve, the ash haired witch once again rolling her eyes. "Now, how was India?"

"Hot."

"As in, you were close to the equator, or as in, _hot_." She waggled her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip with a little hum.

"As in, I think I lost two kilograms of weight in sweat alone, you randy bint."

Katie sighed in disappointment, flopping into an unoccupied seat. The ash haired witch just snorted, shaking her head at the woman. Was this the early stages of a midlife crisis? Merlin, were they there already?

Their conversation paused as four children ran by the kitchen, a particularly high screech of "Becca, don't you dare!" echoing back to them.

"Be nice to your sister, Madison!" The mother of three only sighed at the telltale scream of rage that could only be her eldest daughter. A, slightly, quieter stampede of footsteps came back down the hall. Liam and Becca sprinted passed, maniacal laughter pouring from their angelic little faces. Harry walked by a minute later, poking his head inside the kitchen with an expression full of suffering.

"Do we have a spare shirt for Madison?" The girl in question stood behind him, face red and hair frizzing with anger fueled magic. Her prized Hufflepuff shirt dripped mud onto the floor. Poppy appeared only a second after, clean shirt in hand. She clucked her tongue once before leading the frazzled girl away, shushing her indignant shouts with expert care.

"We'll finish this in a moment," Katie warned, pointing two fingers from her eyes to Jo. She merely raised a glass in cheers, waving her friend away to discipline the children.

After much yelling and crying and timeouts, Katherine haggardly returned to the kitchen. Jo offered her a piping hot cup of tea, patting her shoulder consolingly when the woman sighed deeply.

"I'm so _fucked_."

Jo nearly spit out her tea at the miserable curse. Sputtering slightly, she whacked her chest a few times with a ragged chuckle.

"They'll grow out of it. Soon enough, they'll be off to Hogwarts, and much too concerned with being teenagers. Only a few more years, then you'll miss all of this chaos." Katie shook her head, sighing into her tea before Jo had even finished the cliched sentiment.

"No. Jo, I'm. _Fucked._ " Then, quite suddenly in Jo's opinion, her friend burst into great heaving sobs. Cheeks instantly began to splotch as a peculiar nasally whine started, she gasped and sputtered while still attempting to sip her tea. "This tea's really good, by the way," she hiccoughed, a drop or two of tears splashing into her cup.

"Merlin, what the fuck is wrong?" Jo quickly summoned the tea towels, pushing them into her friend's waiting hands. Katie sniffled and inhaled deeply, glancing up to find her friend staring at her in confused horror. She just burst into more tears.

"What's wrong is I-I'm bloody knocked up! William, the great cocking fool, put _another_ Schott spawn inside me!" Katherine suddenly sat up, face morphing into one of righteous anger as tears streaked down her cheeks and snot leaked from her nose. "And did I bloody ask for another child, Jo? DID I?!"

"...no?"

"Damn right I did not! Who the hell does he think he is? I didn't ask him for potency, I asked him to do the bloody dishes!"

"Oh Merlin's tit." She worried, just a smidge, for William's well being when her friend returned home. "Okay, okay, stuff your face back in that towel for a moment. I think we need a second to breathe, and _not_ yell at the person who did _not_ put a baby in you."

"Right, right, you're right." Katie, her dear frazzled friend, stuffed her face back into the tea towel and promptly resumed her previous crying. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Jo let the blonde slump into her, rubbing a hand over her shuddering back. It took a long while before Katie composed herself. She stared miserably up at Jo, frowning deeply with puffy red eyes. "I'm a terrible Mother."

"No, you're not. You're just upset, right now."

"I just told you I don't want this baby. What type of person says that?"

"A sixteen year old whose society was entering a civil war. A woman who's given birth to three beautiful children, and had not intended on having another. _My_ mother when she found out she was pregnant with Rodney." She tried to give her friend a comforting smile, gently taking hold of her hand. "It doesn't make you a bad mother. You're a wonderful mother, and the three children you've kept alive so far are undeniable proof."

"Becca covered her sister in mud, then laughed like Skeletor when I yelled at her."

"I don't know who Skeletor is, so your point is null and void."

"Madison ripped the arm off of Becca's favorite teddy."

"I broke Rodney's foot when he was four."

"Liam-"

"He was _four_." Jo smirked when her friend just puffed up her cheeks at the interruption. "When I was ten, Rod pushed me out of a tree."

"Yes, well-"

"A week later, I pushed Rod out of the same tree."

Katie opened her mouth, but paused when Jo just raised a brow with a little smirk. The blonde snapped her mouth shut with a huff, clearly trying to think of something worse than Jo or Rodney had ever inflicted on one another. Eyes sparking with a sudden memory, she opened her mouth again.

"Rodney lit my room on fire."

"Ugh, Sweet Helga, _fine_. You win. Happy?"

"Hold on, one more. When I was sixteen, I found out Rod had a crush on a girl by the name of Constance Pierce. D'you remember her?" She leaned forward excitedly, eyes crinkling and sparkling with mischievous laughter.

"Oh no. I feel like I should remember this," Katie groaned, closing her eyes and racking her brain.

"I'm almost insulted that you don't. You and I, best friend, wrote her _dozens_ of secret admirer letters with horrifically obvious hints as to them being from Rodney." Clearing her throat, she recited one of the most memorable lines penned by said best friend. " ' _My dearest Constance, you are the sun, and I, a lowly flower, search desperately for your loving light every day, so that I may stand stiff as a rod in your presence.' "_

That did it. Both women fell into roaring laughter, raspy and tinkling as it had always been. Struggling to breathe, faces turning red, they caught each others eyes before falling into riotous guffaws all over again.

"Helga help me, I was a _dirty_ minded girl. Oh, oh merlin," Katie groaned and giggled, slapping a hand over her eyes in distinct embarrassment for her younger self. Suddenly, that dooming, drowning despair inside lightened beneath the giggles and memories. Rubbing at her cheeks which ached from such laughter, she suddenly felt a stab of guilt.

Staring at Jo, her face crinkled with laughter as she sighed out quiet chuckles, the mother of soon-to-be four felt very selfish. How could she ever justify complaining about such a thing? How could Jo even stand to comfort and laugh with her after she so cruelly waved yet another baby in her face?

"Hey." Jo could see the laughter dim from Katie's eyes, sadness brewing in their depths. "You're going to be a wonderful mother. I know this isn't what you wanted or expected, but if this…y'know, _works out_ , you'll have another amazing person that you made. I promise."

"You Pillock." Katie threw herself at her friend, hugging her closely. "Don't make me cry again."

It was too late, though. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks, doubling when Jo only hummed and squeezed her back just as tightly. There was a promise in their hug, a promise to be the friend they had both failed to be nine years ago.

"Right." Katie sucked in a deep cleansing breath, dabbing her eyes dry as her lips twisted into a teasing smirk. "So, India?"

"You know," Jo paused, snorting a laugh as she raised her eyes to the ceiling. "I'm not sure you'll believe me."

* * *

 **October**

Harry tugged at the scratchy collar that extended to nearly the top of his head. He scowled when it only itched more, then hissed in pain. The plastic fangs had dug painfully into his gums, and the taste of the fake blood around his mouth had him spitting into the sink. He suddenly didn't understand how Abigail had convinced him this was the best costume to choose. Apparently, the Dursleys' had done him some form of service by never letting him out to join the Halloween fun.

"Thi'th I'th tarribull."

Jo and Poppy gave him uncertain looks when he finally stepped out the bathroom. Witch and elf cocking their heads to the side, still not seeing the appeal of the costuming. He looked right miserable in the strange get up. Plus, as they had pointed out to him numerous times before tonight, that wasn't even what a vampire looked like.

However, Abigail had insisted they match, and he had readily agreed.

"Well?" He held his arms out and did a quick spin, showcasing his costume as he tried not to trip on the cape.

"It be…very unique, Young Harry." Poppy gave him a bright smile.

"Hey, if you like it, I like it, kid. Although, I think you should let Poppy hem that cape a bit." The elf clicked her tongue in agreement. A snap of her fingers had the irritating garment at a manageable length. "Okay, let's see those fangs." She held up the camera, snapping away as the boy managed to grimace.

"Thee'th thing'th hurt mah mouf." Spitting out the plastic torture teeth, he quickly wiggled his mouth back and forth. A sigh of relief left him as he simply dropped the teeth on his bed. "I'll just tell Abigail my costume didn't have fangs. Those things are _horrible_." Jo snorted, earning a slight smack from the elf.

"Y'know, I could just-" she held up her wand, wagging her eyebrows. "No one would know."

"You can do that? Why didn't you say so before?" Harry quickly approached, more than happy to take the magical option.

"Thought you were trying to be a proper muggle about this whole Halloween thing." She shushed him, holding his face still as she transfigured his canines into fangs. "There we go. Try not to prick your tongue on 'em." Of course, he ran his tongue over the fangs just because she warned him not to. She just gave him a deadpanned stare when he flinched in pain.

"Right, so, try _not_ to prick your tongue on them. I think you missed that part." With a chuckle, she took a much happier looking picture before releasing him to terrorize the streets with his muggle friend.

She and Poppy shared a worried glance as he disappeared down the stairs. Compared to last year, this thirty-first had been a perfectly regular day. He hadn't asked to stay home or tried to sleep in. He hadn't refused to eat or sleep alone. There hadn't been a single sniffle or tear. In fact, they had begun to wonder if he was simply ignoring the day's significance.

However, neither the witch nor the elf saw it necessary to disrupt his plans. If he wanted to try this muggle activity instead of spending his day sad, their lips were sealed. Although, Jo had a feeling this act of denial wouldn't hold up through the night.

"Finally!" Abigail cheered when he emerged from the house. He nearly did a double take, eyebrows hiking up high in surprise. His friend's face had been entirely covered in fake blood, and she'd even added tears and 'wounds' to the costume.

"I vant to suck your blood!" She snarled viciously, even while giggling, as she lunged at him and actually bit his shoulder. "Ah, shi…oot. That hurt," she whined, prodding at the fake fangs cutting into her gums. Harry just laughed, unsure what she was even doing. Her older sister, Ami, stood off to the side, rolling her eyes at the younger two.

"C'mon, dweebs. Let's get this over with." Throwing her hair over one shoulder, the teenager turned on her heel and stalked down the road. Abigail rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at her sister's back. He tried to stifle a giggle when she nasally mimed her sister under her breath. They quickly followed, though. Neither of the two were keen on being left alone with so many teenagers running about. That was just asking for trouble.

Firecrackers suddenly exploded across the road, two teenage boys sprinting away in hysterics as the home owners shouted after them. Smoke poured out from beneath their entrance stairs, a couple delayed pops making the woman jump and curse in surprise. When the man turned his glare on them, the nine year olds quickly looked away to hide their laughter.

Nearly two blocks down, they came upon the Halloween party. Children closer to their age milled about, bobbing for apples and playing carnival style homemade games. There were some bored looking teenagers clustered in the shadows. They were clearly the obligated older siblings, annoyed by the smaller children having so much fun at their expense. Ami quickly joined them, commanding Harry and Abigail to behave. "Don't even look at me until it's time to go."

"Isn't she a bloody ray of sunshine," Abigail muttered, blowing a raspberry in the teenagers' general direction. "She's just mad because John May invited her to his party, and she couldn't go."

"Is that her boyfriend, then?" Harry let her lead him towards some game that involved knocking over a pyramid of bottles with a ball.

"She wishes." She faked gagging, stepping up to join the line. "I swear, I'm never going to have a boyfriend. Too much trouble from what I've seen."

She'd made that proclamation quite a few times, now. Every time one of her sisters had a crush or a date, it absolutely sickened her. Harry thought it was only because they were nine, but even he had to agree. Dating looked like far too much trouble.

They spent the next hour jumping from game to game, neither of the two winning more than two. Abigail found great entertainment in sneaking up behind people, scaring them to death with her bloody face and fake fangs. Harry, however, was quickly losing interest in the whole experience. It was great fun, of course, but his stomach had started twisting uncomfortably. A heavy weight fell in his chest as he watched so many parents with their young children.

Coming here had been a big mistake.

* * *

He found Jo in the study, glasses perched precariously on the end of her nose as she read a letter. After returning home, he'd quickly changed out of the itchy costume and scrubbed the blood off of his face. All that remained were the sharp teeth.

"Can we go see my parents?" She startled, dropping the letter as if it had burned her. Ripping the glasses off of her face, she hastily threw them into the drawer with a slam before facing him with a frown.

"Right now?"

"Please?"

He was frowning deeply, looking much older than he should. Green eyes pleaded with her from across the room, as if she would ever say no. Smiling sadly, she quickly nodded and stood before leading them from the room. Once back outside of the house, Jo took his hand tightly in hers. With a quick twist and a crack, they vanished.

Harry released a sigh of relief at the sight of the cemetery. She had landed them right beside the church, out of view from the many muggles celebrating. She tapped the red wand on the top of his head, and a shiver ran down Harry's back at the sensation of cool water covering his body. She circled the wand over her own head, body gradually disappearing before his eyes. He looked down at himself, lifting a hand that shifted and shimmered to match the grass below.

"Disillusionment charm. Don't want to attract attention with this many people out and about." There was a faint outline where Jo had been standing. He could see her body change to reflect the street behind them as she turned.

"Ready?" Her hand found his as he nodded. Realizing she probably couldn't see, he hummed an 'uh-huh' before pulling her towards the gate. He'd wasted too much time already. He led her all the way to the grave, pulling her along aggressively as he nearly ran to his parents. When they finally stopped in front of headstone, Harry dropped quickly to his knees.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, eyes starting to burn with tears as the heavy guilt consumed him. "I'm so _so_ sorry. I swear I didn't forget. I would never forget you. I'm sorry if I made you guys think that."

Jo sighed quietly, unsure if he would rather have privacy or not. He held onto her hand, though, little fingers clenching her like a lifeline as whispered apologies filled the air. Kneeling beside him, she leaned until their shoulders touched and wrapped her other hand around their clasped ones. She'd be there for him however she could.

He sniffled and his shoulders shook, but he never stopped talking. After the numerous apologies, he told them about his foolish decision to join the muggle festivities tonight. He described the horrendous costume and irritated teenagers. He vowed to never participate again, even if Abigail begged him. Tonight would be their night from now on.

He had a whole year to tell them about. A year full of many exciting happenings. He'd celebrated his first real Christmas and New Year. There was Madison and Ron's birthday parties. Jo winning guardianship of him. Jo adopting him. His first birthday celebration and party. Oh, and of course, _India_. He didn't tell them about Jo's accident or her alcoholism. He thought it would be rude with her sitting beside him, offering comfort and support.

By the time he finished, his throat felt rough and scratchy, and his brain was exhausted. His heart felt better though, lighter and free from the tightening grip of guilt. The muscles in his back and legs felt stiff as he finally stood. He must have talked for a long time. There was much less commotion in the street now, the muggles having started returning to their homes.

After placing a small bouquet of flowers, a mismatch of many types, on the grave, they said their farewells to James and Lily Potter. As they left the cemetery, Jo removed the disillusionment. She quickly caught the milky gaze of Bathilda Bagshot, who stood hidden beside a cottage across the square. The old woman offered a solemn nod, but thankfully, did not approach. With a twist and crack, Jo returned them home.

That night, Harry and Taffy crawled into her bed, the loyal girl cuddling her boy with a whine when he sniffled quietly. Jo, knowing there were no words in existence that could make this better, merely rubbed his back and hummed a quiet forgotten song.

* * *

 **November**

Jo waved her left wand, stacking the few plates and cutlery before sending them to soak in the sink. She could hear him huff and sigh, wiping the table and highchair forcefully. After the third knock of the highchair into the kitchen table, she'd had enough.

"What's wrong?" She frowned when he gave her that guarded icy stare of his. He was looking at her as if she was the enemy. Her stare hardened in response, heart beginning to thump wildly in anticipation of a fight.

He only shook his head, huffing once more as he began manically scrubbing a stubborn dollop of dried icing. Irritation flared inside of her at being ignored, her nerves already frayed from the night's excitement. With a quick flick, she'd summoned the rag right from between his whitening fingers, catching it with ease. He turned on her instantly, lip curling into a snarl as his coffee eyes burned with rage.

"Don't fucking do that to me."

"Then don't fucking ignore me. What. Is. Wrong?"

A deep frown pulled on her lips when, once again, he didn't answer. Like a big caged bear, he angrily began pacing the kitchen. She could hear him cursing under his breath, the words 'you people' and 'unnatural' hitting her like bullets. Her own eyes narrowed into a glare, which was equally returned by her husband.

"We can't fucking stay here. You know that. I don't understand why you insist we live _here_. Surrounded by _them_." He slapped one hand against the table, throwing the other towards the kitchen window. Down below, the streets were dotted with _them_. Right under their _home._ Right below their _daughter_.

"I've already told you that we are safe here. No one down there can even see our apartment. No one outside of my family knows it even exists." She bit back, tone exasperated. How many times had she told him this?

"What if your family tells them?" His question was quiet, cold and cutting. The words sat between them, a valid concern raised by a paranoid man who hadn't slept in days.

"My family would never tell a damn soul." Her lip lifted in a snarl of her own, insulted and frankly done with his paranoia. He could only ever see the bad, glass always half empty. She was so damn tired of it.

"Magic could make them. Hell, I've seen people sell out their entire families just for money. You can't tell me they 'would never'. You don't fucking know."He scowled and huffed, angrier than she had ever seen him before. He glared at her with contempt, clearly seeing her as the naive little fool. As if sickened by the sight of her, he turned and stomped out of the kitchen. _**"You don't understand war."**_

As she stalked after him, another argument on the tip of her tongue, an unpleasant shiver ran down her spine. A strange wave of _awareness_ washed over her, caught between knowing she was in a dream and being unable to wake from it. The living room distorted, a cross between the well known room and the Grand Hall of her ancestral home. She circled the mutated room, mind jarred and indecisive. Cole had vanished, the front door left wide open. Slowly, she approached, finding herself staring up the entrance stairs of Hogwarts. The castle loomed over her, sky dismal and dark. A howl of wind tore past her, whipping hair much shorter than it should be into her eyes.

" **Do you know the cost of war?"**

The voice was a whisper in her ear and a shout echoing from above. Spinning quickly, she found nothing. There was no person, no Hogwarts, no trees or grass; only the dark smoky sky and inky darkness.

" **Do you know the cost of war?"**

Yes, she knows the cost of war. How could she not have learned the lesson he had so adamantly wished for her not to?

" **Do you know the cost of war?"**

The whisper came from behind her, quiet and scared. A touch, so gentle and hesitant, against the middle of her spine. Quickly, Jo turned, eyes widening at what she found.

" **Do you know the cost of war?"**

She stared at herself, this girl that she used to be. The girl who hadn't yet met her future husband. The girl who hadn't yet held her baby in her arms. The girl who hadn't yet paid the cost of war.

"Everything," she whispered, her hands lifting shakily to hold her younger self's face. She didn't understand, she didn't _know_. Jo had to warn her.

Gently, she caressed her cheeks, the cold tear mirroring itself in her younger, naive eye.

"It costs _everything_."

* * *

Harry held Jo's hand tightly, following her down the cold and wet streets. A light drizzle fell around them, bouncing harmlessly off of their charmed coats. In the distance, he could see the beach, hear the waves crashing and churning against the shore. A long pier extended into the chaos, a small structure near the end lit up bright beneath tall lamps. That was where they were going, and he knew the significance of it.

Jo hadn't said much all day, waking late and moving slowly in the hours that followed. Then, at quarter to six, she'd asked him to come with her. There was a quickness to her step, agitation in her movements, so he'd followed quietly. He was prepared to be the support on this death day.

She slowed as they approached, pausing to offer him a small smile. He returned it, squeezing her hand and leaning against her.

"C'mon, I want to show you where we met." Her voice sounded groggy, deeper and raspier than usual, but she kept that small smile in place. She wanted to start putting some happiness back into her memories, if only a little.

The didn't go very far, only half way down the slippery pier. She settled against the rail, facing the open water with eyes seeing both the past and present. They remained like that for some long minutes, staring out at the frothing sea. Harry really tried to replicate Jo's patience from the previous month, leaning into her side and keeping quiet, but restlessness soon began to creep in.

"We were both on holiday," she suddenly said, peeking at him from the corner of her eye with an understanding smirk. He lasted much longer than a boy of his age would be expected. "I was sixteen, the summer before I began my sixth year. My grandfather had passed away unexpectedly a few weeks prior, and I…needed some time, I suppose. Looking back now, it was _really_ selfish of me. I wasn't the only one who was upset."

"How-" Harry quickly snapped his mouth shut, realizing it was probably not okay to ask how her grandfather had died.

"An experiment, actually. I haven't a clue what he was working on, but whatever it was, it poisoned him." She shrugged, forehead creasing as she pondered the enigma that had been Julius Delacroix. "He'd always liked to dabble in random things. One day, it would be a cure for doxy-bites. The next, he'd create a hat rack that could stun home intruders. He had a curious mind that found interest in everything."

He'd opened the shop, actually. Bored, suffering of cabin fever and an empty nest, he'd decided to start a business specializing in nothing yet everything. Any witch or wizard could enter with the most random of request or problem, and he would ensure they left a satisfied customer. Her own father had loved that shop. He'd even credited it to being the only reason her grandfather had agreed to allow him a chance to court her mother.

"I'll have to introduce you to his portrait. Mind, it's not actually him, but I think the artist did a cracking job of imbuing his personality. He's a funny one." She chuckled to herself, shaking her head of the many memories her grandfather had given her. "So yeah, this is where we met. Right here."

Harry looked up in surprise when she pushed off from the rail. She let herself drink in the sight with clear and sober eyes, realizing how beautiful this place truly was. Since they had died, she'd found it ugly. The entire town, the beach, the people, the sky and sea; all of it had been seen through whiskey drowned eyes that had wanted everything and everyone to look as horrible as she felt.

 _So fucking selfish._ She shook her head, bitter remorse for the person she had become souring her stomach. With a deep sigh, she nodded for Harry to follow. The desire to come here had been filled. Now, she simply wanted to go back home and immerse herself in the warmth of her family. She couldn't find that here.

* * *

"Congratulations, Josephine!"

Exhausted and more than done with shaking hands, Jo offered a tiny smile and quiet 'Thanks'. Ian, one of the newest members of their group, smiled cheerfully. His full cheeks tinted pink when he noticed he still hadn't released her now lax hand. Some form of an apology fell from his lips as he shuffled away quickly.

"See you next week!" Ted chuckled beside her, shaking his head when the young man bumped into a floating stool on its way to the wall. "He's a good lad."

"Most of 'em are."

They had been dubbed the grandparents of the group some time ago. The two old hats, always the last to leave and ensuring everything was in order, while sipping their tea. There were so many young people, it hurt both of their hearts equally. Of course, there were older members, a couple right in Jo's age group, but she had a difficult time connecting with them. They were, in a way, the fortunate ones. They had been smart enough to leave when the war had truly peaked. However, this had not saved them from the grief of dead loved ones and a wounded society when they had returned.

"How does it feel? One full year sober." Ted smiled kindly, offering his to-go cup for a cheer _._ Her lips tilted into something crossed between a smile and smirk, snorting a little laugh as she brought her cup to his.

"It feels like yesterday and the day before that. It feels…right, I suppose." She paused, her and Ted offering a final farewell to the last member in the doorway. "I don't know how to describe it. I'm…I was lost, Ted. Y'know? Just, drowned and buried so far down, and I wasn't sure that I could come back. Yet…here I am. I feel _better_ , but." She cut off with a sigh, turning sad and thoughtful eyes on her sponsor.

"I can't be who I was. There are pieces of me that can never be that person again, not after," she patted a hand against her chest, right over her heart. "It's a strange road I'm on. Finding this person I've become. Someone who…" A self deprecating snort of laughter, a shrug and a sigh; she couldn't find the words to describe this state she had found herself in.

"Oh, Josephine." Ted sighed with good nature, a glimpse of understanding in his eyes. "That's part of being human. We are constantly growing, changing. The person you were before was _so_ young, so new. How could you possibly still be the same after so much time and circumstance?"

They both sighed, Jo's face thoughtful and confused, while Ted watched her sadly.

"The hardest part, I believe, is that you had so much time in between then and now. Most people change bit by bit, day by day, but you have ten years of…" His face scrunched, nose wiggling slightly as he thought of the proper words. "You were on pause, so to say. It must be overwhelming, reconciling which parts of yourself no longer hold a place in your life with these new unknown bits and pieces. Give it time."

He gave her shoulder a pat and a squeeze, kind and understanding as always. She smiled tiredly in thanks, reaching up to grasp the hand.

"Thanks, Ted."

* * *

 **December**

Harry stared down proudly at his little pile of freshly wrapped gifts. The paper shimmered and shined in the light, great bows of silver and white on each and every package. It was a much larger pile than the previous year, but Poppy had been a great help in finding them all. She'd brought him catalogs and advertisements, venturing into Diagon Alley in his place to find the circled items. He wasn't sure why, but this Christmas felt much more exciting than last year.

Yesterday, he and Jo had gone out to find the perfect Christmas tree. They'd spent all night hanging each ornament and string of garland without magic, even though Poppy had huffed at having to use a step stool. He'd wanted to string popcorn, like Abigail had suggested, but the dogs had gotten into the waiting bowl. Jo had tried to scold them, but both she and Harry had fallen into laughter when they had piled behind Poppy, using the elf like a shield.

Overall, he thought Christmas was looking to be brilliant.

Jo, however, was only seconds away from ripping the hair from her head. She couldn't think of _anything_ to buy for _anyone_! Groaning, she put the matching salt and pepper Christmas themed gnome shakers away. She was positive Poppy would put those in a drawer, never to see the light of day again. With a deep sigh, she surveyed the little kitchen shop for anything of interest. She had a feeling this stop would also be a bust, seeing as Poppy had little need for anymore kitchen accessories.

"Ah, fuck." She had a feeling Diagon Alley was quickly moving up her list of places to search. The thought of the shopping district left her with a horrible taste on her tongue. Sighing, she waited as a few old ladies walked through the door before slipping out. "Come on, think. Think, think, think…" The mumbling continued as she stalked down the street, hands deep in her coat pockets and face pinched.

Then, quite suddenly, she rolled her eyes and snorted. _Of course._ Sneaking into an alley, she turned on her heel and disappeared. There was a wonderful Indian shop in London, and she had a feeling the perfect gift for the elf could be found on its shelves.

Christmas morning came and went, the small family of three enjoying the day with a peaceful contentment. Harry and Poppy had of course woken Jo at an ungodly hour, depriving her of coffee for much longer than she could stand. The dogs, the spoiled rotten things, had already found their new stash of bones and toys sometime through the night. Taffy, queen of the hounds, had claimed the largest bone and 'best' squeaky ball.

 _Squuuueak_

Sighing, Jo lazily turned her head to stare at the golden dog blankly. Her tail thumped against the floor, ears perked and eyes alight as she squeezed another high pitched whine out of her treasure. Snorting, the witch turned her eyes back to the newest album Harry had gifted her. Blue eyes softened at the images of his birthday party, their tired and sunburned group confusingly smiling and saying 'Cheese?'.

"Jo, watch, watch!"

She heard the whoosh before he'd even appeared in the room. The broad smile on his face was the only detail she caught before he zoomed past her. Poppy and she had decided, rather easily, the he was quite ready for a standard broom. Of course, he had to sit through a short lecture on flying responsibly or else he'd be stuck back on the trainer. She wasn't sure he'd actually absorbed any of her warnings, his eyes constantly darting to the broom as he'd shifted impatiently.

He pulled off a tiny, shaky loop, whooping and laughing with pure glee at the execution of it. She couldn't help but chuckle and let out a returning whoop of encouragement. Another chuckle left her lips, she could practically feel Poppy's anxiety all the way from the kitchen. The smells of something spicey had begun to sneak down the hall, her new cookbooks and pans obviously being put to work.

"O-o-oh, Shi-!"

The sound of splintering wood interrupted what was sure to be Harry's most favored curse word. The tree, which now held a child and his broom, groaned in annoyance. She really tried to at least look concerned, but Merlin, his face was almost too much.

"You alri-pff…are you alright?" He glared at her obvious amusement, sitting up properly on the branch. His glare quickly turned into fear as his broom suddenly tumbled from the branches. "S'alright, I got it." The red wand quickly shot out, a spell catching the broom and lowering it safely to the ground. He breathed a sigh of relief, looking around the Grand Hall with slight awe. He'd never noticed how tall these trees truly stood. It was difficult to gauge from the ground.

"Brilliant," he whispered, the feeling of _free_ jolting through him. If he could, he imagined living a life so high in the sky would be absolutely perfect.

"So."

She smirked a touch when he startled, wide green eyes not expecting to find her so close. Standing on a very tall column of rock and earth, she offered a hand to help him out of the tree.

"Gonna be honest, I'm trying real hard here not to regret buying you that broom." Her smile softened the scolding, but he still looked away, pout already forming.

"I'm sorry. I'll be more careful."

"That's my boy." She ruffled his hair, snorting when he whined slightly and feebly tried to slap it away. Still, he smiled brightly at the endearment. "Also, can we talk about you and the word 'shit'? You know you're only nine, right?"

"You curse all the time." He gave her particularly stubborn look, a bit smug too, thinking he'd countered her well.

"Yeah, well that's because I'm a fucking adult."

"That's not fair. Maybe you shouldn't curse around children."

They stared at one another from the sides of their eyes, boy smug as pie and the woman trying not smile. He, rather unfortunately for her, had a point. Rolling her eyes, she just sighed and bumped her hip against him in concession.

"Fine. Just keep it family friendly around Poppy. She's sensitive, y'know?" She finally broke, smiling that little smile of hers as her eyes crinkled. Harry giggled slightly, much too giddy at the permission to say 'adult' words.

"Fuck yeah." He didn't move in time to avoid the cuff around his head. Frowning and pouting, he crossed his arms and most definitely did not sulk.

"Nope, not that one. You can't say that one until you're married."

* * *

 **January 1990**

Harry ran around the hillside, laughing loudly with the barest of apologies as he skidded around another family. Ron and Ginny were hot on his heels, the boy huffing and panting as the slighter two kept the lead. The redheaded boy was currently serving as 'it' or 'troll', as they had told Harry.

"Merlin's tit, s'not fair. You two are so bloody fast!" He gasped and wheezed, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. Harry slowed, not wanting to get too far away. Ginny, however, breezed past him, laughing in victory as she sprinted away. He watched her in amusement, oblivious to the approaching figure from behind.

"Gotcha!" Harry let out an 'off' as the stockier boy plowed him into the grass and mud. Ron tried to shout his victory, but only wheezed, thankfully falling off of the smaller boy to rest on the grass. "You're…the…troll." He continued to pant, managing a bright and victorious red cheeked smile.

Harry only shook his head, spitting a glob of muddy grass out of his mouth. They both wrinkled their noses at the sight. Catching each other eyes, the two boys started to laugh. Harry's face had streaks of mud all over, and Ron's had bits of grass stuck to his sweaty forehead, cheeks still a bright red from so much running.

"Oy, are you two gonna play or just lay in the dirt, giggling like some loons?" Ginny cackled, floating by them on nimble and quick feet. She easily dodged a rock Ron lobbed at her, sticking her tongue out gleefully.

"She's such a brat." Ron groaned, rolling onto his knees to get back up. "Alright, mate?"

Harry nodded, gladly accepting Ron's helping hand. He winced slightly, knees stinging and elbows definitely bruised. Sighing, he and Ron shared yet another disgusted look when he pulled his pant leg up, revealing a bloody, skinned knee.

"Think I'm gonna sit this round out." Harry chuckled, waving his friend off to chase his sister, who had started mocking him from her smug distance. Sighing, he started his trek back up the hill, knowing Jo was waiting for them behind the wards.

It had been had been a surprising turn of events when the Weasley children had been dropped off at the house, mere minutes before they had departed to watch the fireworks on Primrose Hill. Ron and Ginny had excitedly explained that their mum and dad were going on a rare 'date night'. Charlie, promising to pick them back up in the morning, had disappeared back through the floo with a wink. Apparently, Jo had somehow, through Mr. Weasley and his utter excitement for all muggle experiences, broken Mrs. Weasley down enough to send her youngest children for a sleepover.

The thought of Mrs. Weasley left Harry rather confused. The woman was always extremely kind and welcoming to him, serving him extra large portions of food and hugging him frequently. However, on more than one random occasion, she would give him this sad pitying look. He'd also noticed, when Jo was mentioned by anyone, himself included, Mrs. Weasley would pull a face and quickly change the subject. He wasn't sure why, though.

He'd asked Jo about it, once. She'd only responded with a snort and a mumble that sounded suspiciously like 'damn stubborn Gryffindors'. It was a puzzle. A puzzle the nine year old boys had yet to work out.

Jo hissed, giving him a sympathetic smile at the sight of his bleeding knees and scraped hands. She nodded him over to Andromeda Tonks, the older witch much more knowledgeable in healing. Tonks distracted him from watching his skin knit back together, chatting away happily about the beautiful fireworks, hair flickering sporadically between pink and purple.

"You three about ready? It's starting to get late." Jo watched as Ron tried to tackle his younger sister, missing spectacularly as she made a hard right. She winced, chuckling when he threw his hands up in defeat.

"Ye-eah," Harry yawned, making his way back down the hill to collect his friends.

"Oh, I miss that energy." Ted chuckled, stretching and groaning in relief when his back popped. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Andy, but it seems I've gone and grown old." His bottom lip stuck out pitifully, eyes widening to pull off an expression of pleading. "Can you find it in your beautiful young heart to ever forgive me?"

"It's quite alright, dear. I hear there's a splendid retirement community just outside of Brighton. Why, there's even rumor of an underground quidditch league." Andromeda smirked, giving his hand a pat in commiseration over their collection of years. Tonks rolled her eyes at the two, but Jo caught the content little smile on her lips when she turned away. Chin propped in her hand, Jo just chuckled quietly to herself. They were a good family, and she was so grateful they had found her.

"Well, Josephine, what's in store for you this year? Any resolutions?," Ted asked, a goofy smile on his face as Andromeda leaned against his shoulder. The family all turned to look at her expectantly.

"Ah, I'm still thinking of one. Preferably, I would love to _not_ end up in Mungo's." The adults shared a quiet laugh. The question was quickly passed on to Ted, who loudly exclaimed his wish to grow the largest flower garden. Apparently, he has an ongoing feud with a muggle woman down the road, whose roses and hyacinths were so grand and lush it had brought the man to tears last year. Andromeda quietly stated she only wished to have her newest healing essay published.

"Well, they'd be bloody mad not to. My Andy's absolutely brilliant!" Ted puffed his chest out comically, pulling his scowling wife into an undignified heap on his lap.

Their eyes fell on the youngest of their little group, whose hair instantly blazed a bright red. Tonks had started blushing, her resolution obviously embarrassing as she stuttered and mumbled, but she was saved by the appearance of three sweaty and muddy children. Ginny, chest puffed and head held high, had evaded being tagged completely. Ron, exhausted and much worse for ware, gratefully chugged a canteen of water.

The Tonks family soon departed, leaving Jo to herd three suddenly tired children through the world door home. She and Poppy forced them all into quick baths, the elf clucking the entire time. The witch could only laugh at the scolding she received for coming home so late with such dirty children.

"Oh, it's a special night. They had fun," she whispered, tucking Ginny, already fast asleep, into the transfigured bed. Ron and Harry were snoring and mumbling away, back-to-back, in Harry's much too large bed. Poppy clucked her tongue again, sending their dirty clothes off to the wash room to begin soaking. Mud and grass stains were a stubborn annoyance, her Mistress just didn't understand. "And Poppy?"

"Yes Mistress?" Poppy most certainly huffed, nose turned up and away from her amused Mistress.

"Happy New Year."

The elf instantly softened, a happy smile spreading across her face when her Mistress knelt down to hug her close. When she pulled back, Poppy coughed and harrumphed quickly, sending the witch to bed. The dogs clamored after Jo, a terrier dragging a rawhide three times its size down the hall.

"Right. Poppy needs to clean the young ones clothes." The elf skipped in the opposite direction, mumbling through her own to-do list. An elf's work is never done, not even on the holidays. No matter how much her family commanded her to relax.

* * *

 **February**

"You made that up!"

"No I didn't. Jo told me that first years aren't allowed to bring their brooms!"

"Well, that's just silly. Don't they teach us how to fly in our first year?"

Jo and Katherine, who was sitting quite uncomfortably due to possibly a foot trying to break through her rib cage, watched in equal amusement and exasperation as Madison and Harry had yet another debate. Anabelle had forced Katherine into the seat, deciding her brother should take care of hosting the party in her stead. The blonde had to bite her tongue and force herself to stay when William nearly dropped the tray of finger sandwiches. However, she wore the most pleased smile when he gave her a desperate look of panic.

The healer did say she should rest whenever possible, after all.

"Uh oh."

Katherine turned away from her distressed husband at Jo's mumble. One Molly Weasley had just arrived, and she was approaching the two. Quickly.

"Hello Katherine, oh you are absolutely glowing!" The Weasley matron wrapped her arms snugly around the blonde, squeezing just enough to offer that Molly patented comfort. She turned towards Jo, smiling brightly and cheeks bright red. The ash haired witch stared up at her with a particularly horrified face of confusion, unsure of what to do or say to the woman who had written her off so spectacularly.

However, there were no words or embrace. In fact, Molly had simply frozen, apparently unsure of how she should act as well. Katherine looked between the two, reaching behind her for another handful of grapes while the two decided what to do.

"Josephine, it is…well, it's…." With a strange sound, part squawk part squeak, Molly enveloped Jo in a _crushing_ hug. "I'm so sorry, dear. So very sorry. And I've been a right coward, not writing you once in all this time." Katie smirked at the wide eyed look her friend sent her. She mouthed a plea for help over the emotional woman's shoulder, scowling when she was crushed even further into the embrace. The blond merely shook her head, popping another grape into her mouth. The healer did say she should avoid stressful situations, after all.

"S'alright, Molly. _Really_." She tried to pat the woman's back, awkwardly angling her arm around. "I know it was probably hard to digest, all of those articles were spectacular stories. I understand."

The redheaded woman finally pulled back, hands clutching Jo by the biceps. Her eyes had gone misty, face a deep red as she offered a wobbly smile.

"You're kind, dear. I know, though, I acted horribly. Arthur has been, rightly so, very disappointed with me. Godric, I was just so embarrassed. Every letter I started went in the fire." She remained oblivious to the other woman's discomfort, squeezing her arms with pincer-like fingers. " _Thank you_ for being so kind to my Ronald and Ginevra. Why, you could have easily written us off just the same. They would have been devastated without little Harry around."

Jo could only sigh, smiling slightly as the woman continued to ramble on about how 'wonderful and kind' she had been. It was alright, though, she supposed. At least this was finally being resolved. _Even if it took nearly a year_.

"Really, Molly. It's water under the bridge. Promise."

"Well, if you say so, dear." Molly gave her arms another squeeze, patting them gently as she finally removed them. "I suppose this is a lesson. You can't believe everything the paper prints."

"I suppose," Jo mumbled, frowning slightly. She wondered which parts Molly thought were fabrications, now. Unfortunately, there had been some bits of truth to those articles.

"Of course, Dumbledore advocated for you. I should have known right then that those articles were tosh. Why in Godric's name would you and Dumbledore ever go to court?" Molly laughed outright at the preposterous thought. Jo and Katie shared a nervous glance, their silence thankfully ignored. "Well, I best go and help William. You stay right there, Katherine. We'll handle everything for you."

"Aye aye, Captain." Katie gave a mocking salute, moving from the grapes to slices of cheese.

They watched the woman bustle away, Jo's face instantly dropping.

"Shit."

"Double shit," Katie agreed, passing her now scowling friend the plate of cheese.

They shared the same thought, frowning deeply as they looked at another with concern.

 _Fucking Dumbledore._

* * *

 **March**

Early afternoon, the perfect time to visit Diagon Alley. Blue eyes gazed up at the darkened shop, the silhouette man still stuck between changing his many hats. Her stomach clenched, throat tightening already in the shadow of her past life. She tried to just stare at it, pushing away any memories that tried to creep in. She had thought, hoped really, if she could just look at it, maybe it would start to hurt less.

It really didn't, thought.

Inhaling deeply, Jo turned away with a deep sigh. She had somewhere else to be.

Gabriel smiled brightly at her from the entrance of the little cafe, hands full of two to-go cups. He joined her halfway, handing her a nearly perfect cup of coffee before they started in the opposite direction of The Man With Many Hats.

"I must say, I was beginning to think you would never respond to my letter," Gabriel spoke first, laughing nervously at his admission.

"I'll admit, I had to think on it first. Sorry for the late response." She smiled lightly, shrugging when he only waved her off with another bright smile. "Gotta say, though, it was definitely…" What was it, precisely? She supposed it had been surprising, but after thinking on it, it really hadn't been. In the end, it had just been a weight on her, a burden she hadn't asked for. "…unexpected."

She shrugged again, feeling very awkward and guilty when his smile dimmed.

"Yes, I'm sure it was."

Silence settled over them, uncomfortable and pressing. They had met with very different expectations of the day, it seemed. Gabriel sighed quietly, staring at her from the corner of his eye. Of course, she was already staring back, frowning slightly and eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry," she offered quietly, stopping their little walk. "I'm not...well, I'm not ready to take that step in my life. I've only just started-"

Gabriel stopped her with an easy smile and a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You are still on the path to recovery. I understand."

 _Of course, you do._ Jo thought, a sad smile offering him another quiet apology. He was such a _good_ man. Why he had taken an interest in her, she didn't understand.

"However, if I may, I am a very patient man. If you, someday, decide differently." He was only slightly joking. There was a place in his mind, a little corner of his brain that seemed especially dedicated to the woman. Thoughts of her would appear at the most random of times; wondering how she was doing, what she was doing, if she liked the color blue? That little place inside his mind held onto the barest hint of hope when she smiled at him.

"Thanks, but I imagine you would be waiting a very long time. It would be ridiculously unfair of me to hold you to that. You're a good man, Doc. There's a much better woman out there, one that doesn't need a promise of time to get her shit together." She was trying to be realistic, but he thought she was being just a touch too self-deprecating.

"You sell yourself short, Josephine. You are a wonderful person. You are strong, intelligent, kind, and full of love. One day, even if it's not me who proves it, you'll see it." He was smiling again, coaxing her to continue walking back towards the cafe they had started at. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure." She had to keep her head turned away, cheeks having turned red at his compliments and kind words.

"Continue joining me for tea? The life of a healer leaves little time to make friends outside of the hospital." There was a little flutter in his chest when she chuckled that raspy laugh of hers. She nodded with a hum, smiling easily as they continued past the cafe. "Wonderful. Now, tell me, how was training with Master Daljeet?"

She snorted in response, a wry expression on her face as she began the awesome tale of all she had seen and done in a city hidden from the world. Gabriel had many questions, but he still managed to gasp and laugh at all the right times. They shared opinions and theories on how beneficial it would be to learn this style of magic before introducing wands. They even debated lightly over the merit of plausibility of all beings having magic within them.

In the end, they did leave friends, Jo promising to join him the following week. He had to remind himself, however, that she had no intention of returning his affections. So, with some difficulty, he tried to place his own feelings in a box, to be locked away until they either dwindled or…

Well, he is a very patient man.

* * *

 **May**

"So."

Harry's shoulders instantly rose up to his ears, face turning sullen and angry as he glared at the floor. Jo sighed, head falling back against the wall as she stared up at the styrofoam tiled ceiling. Children flooded the halls behind them, curious faces peering in the office windows. There was muffled yelling from the headmistress' office. Harry could feel Jo's stare, folding in on himself even more to hide the hand wrapped in a cold pack.

"C'mon, kid. You gotta tell me something, anything, before we go in there." He resolutely glared at the floor, but she could see his bottom lip begin that telltale tremble. "Harry, I can't help if you don't tell me."

"He was bullying Abigail. H-he said…he called her a…he said really bad things to her." She had to lean in close to properly hear him. His green eyes were blazing mad, staring around her to glare through the door hiding the boy inside. Alexander Jones, a name that had been popping up in their household more and more for his increasing harassment of Harry's friend, could just barely be seen through the small window.

"Right, then what happened?" She raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to block his glare. He responded with a mumble, expression turning unrepentant yet nervous in the face repercussion. "Harry."

"I punched him." He looked anywhere but at her, his right hand pulsing painfully at the mention of the incident. "In the nose."

The secretary, Miss Crayne, raised an eyebrow when the ash-haired woman had to turn away, a smile hidden behind her hand. A completely unbelievable forced cough to hide her chuckles. The secretary wrinkled her nose in disdain, violence was never amusing, especially among their children.

She really shouldn't laugh. Merlin, why couldn't she act like a proper adult? It's just, he looked so much like Lily. Green eyes all fired up, so righteous and pure in the face of bullying. She cleared her throat of any late giggles, peeking at him from the corner of her eye. His shoulders had dropped, a rather smug and proud smile on his face.

"Oy, don't look so proud. You're still in trouble, whether or not he deserved it," she scolded lightly, but he could still see the smile on her lips. Rolling her eyes, she just threw an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into her side. "But between you and me, it sounds like he deserved it." She whispered it, but going off of the glare from behind the secretary desk, she hadn't been quiet enough.

"Potter!" Headmistress Bauer, the peaky old bird, poked her head out from her office. Silver hair was pinned into a sensible bun, pantsuit stiff and pristine, with sensible black heels. Her brown eyes narrowed at the shadow of laughter and smiles on the boy's and woman's face. "Up you get. We have much to discuss, Miss…"

"Delacroix. Pleasure to finally meet you, Headmistress."

"Indeed."

Jo grimaced, face scrunching and mouth frowning comically low. Harry had to stifle his laugh, an equally unconvincing cough covering up nothing to his audience. He knew he was in a good bit of trouble, detention or school service in his near future. He also knew Jo and Poppy would most definitely work up their own type of discipline. However, it was immensely relieving to have Jo there. To have an adult, _finally_ , on his side.

Alexander Jones, a typically handsome blond haired and blue eyed boy, turned his bloody face to glare venomously at Harry. He winced, replacing his own ice pack onto the very crooked and split bridge of his nose. The green eyed boy ruffled his hair, a rather smug and immature smirk of victory on his lips, specially reserved for the schoolyard bully.

* * *

 **July**

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Harry smiled brightly, blowing out the candles on a teetering chocolate cake. Abigail cheered loudly for him, elbowing Ron 'accidentally' in the process. Becca and Ginny snickered from across the table, earning themselves a nasty glare from the redhead boy. Fred and George sulked beside Harry, Molly having confiscated their fireworks only seconds before they had gotten them lit. Lenny, quiet as a mouse, kept shooting glances at Madison, who had 'borrowed' his newest comic book. Liam just stared intently at the cake, drool quite literally beginning to collect in the corner of his mouth.

Jo and Mrs. Moss, one year old Asahi asleep on her shoulder, jumped in to start slicing the cake. Katie smiled gratefully when Jo traded her a plate of cake for one month year old Caleb. Arthur, having gotten his hands on a muggle disposable camera, clicked away. William had long since given up on reminding him to keep his finger off of the lens. Charlie and Percy, the oldest 'children' at the party in the park, were showing Abigail's older sisters, Arisa and Aneira, great attention at the next table over. Percy, poor kid, had turned red upon meeting Aneira Moss, and had yet to return to his regular pale complexion.

"Harry, you should open my present first!," Abigail proclaimed, cake forgotten as she shoved a small bag into his hands.

"What? No fair. You should open ours first." Ron pushed himself against the muggle girl, trying to force a brown box into Harry's hands.

"No, he should open mine first." Abigail pushed him back.

"No, he shoul-"

"Right, break it up, you two." They both shrunk, turning to stare guiltily up at Jo. She smirked slightly, swaying gently with her arms full of baby. "Let's eat cake, first. Then presents." Ron had zero arguments to that, returning to his cake with earnest. Abigail huffed, nodding her head with a resolute stare. Soon enough, the two were shoveling cake into their mouths, trying to beat the other in their newest competition. Jo only rolled her eyes, snorting slightly at their antics.

Once the cake was eaten, Harry eagerly accepted his gifts. Abigail, poised and ready, threw the bag at him, pushing back against Ron with gusto. Mrs. Moss gave her daughter a terrifying glare of disapproval, a promise of strong retribution in the girl's near future.

"Oh, wow. Thank you so much." Harry smiled, accepting Abigail's side hug. He pulled from the bag a brand new messenger bag, his initials branded into the side.

"My dad helped me make it. He's a leather worker, you know?"

Next, he opened the Weasley's present. Jo watched anxiously, preparing herself for interference if it was noticeably magical. However, he pulled from the box a soft and warm hand knit scarf. Hidden beneath that, a month's worth of candy and chocolate assortment. He thanked them excitedly, stopping himself from releasing any chocolate frogs. He and Ron were slowly building a rather impressive card collection, and he desperately wished to see who he had gotten.

From the Schotts, he received a pair of plastic roller blades and safety wear. William explained he had seen a lot of children skating now-a-days, and the man at the shop had shown him these beginner skates. Harry smiled knowingly, thanking the family happily. He didn't have the heart to tell the man the teenagers would chase him off the moment he set foot in their rollerblading park. He and Abigail shared a knowing look, though. They would just have to practice in front of their houses, for now.

Too soon, in the children's opinion, the party drew to a close. Harry and Jo bid everyone goodbye, hugs and thanks given as they were slowly left alone in the park. He watched as Jo peered around, quickly waving her wand to clear their decorations and trash from the tables. In its place, a wrapped box sat on the table.

"Go on then. You didn't open mine and Poppy's present." His smile grew into a beam at her words, quickly running back to the table in excitement. She watched as he ripped the paper off, quickly removing the lid and looking inside. He frowned in confusion, raising an eyebrow in question at her. "It's alright, just pull it out. There's an extension charm on the box."

From the depths he heaved and tugged out a rather large trunk. She tried not to laugh at his outright disappointment, reaching out to turn the luggage around. It had taken quite a bit of searching which, of course, ended with her having to sneak into the Dursleys' house. There, surrounded by Gryffindor banners and stickers, were the initials L.E.

"It's full of her old books, and Poppy and I added a few more. We thought, y'know, with you going to Hogwarts soon-" Harry cut her off with a leaping hug, burying his head into her sternum with a smile.

"Thank you. I love it."

Kissing his hair (he really had grown this year) she smiled, hugging him to her tightly. One year, that was all the longer she had him for. A weight, one she was becoming accustomed to with these thoughts, settled in her chest. Only one more year, such a short amount of time, now. Her arms tightened even more at the thought.

"Love you, Jo."

"Love you too, kid."

Only one more year.

"C'mon, let's head home. I'm sure Poppy has her own celebration waiting," she tried to push her depressing thoughts away, smiling easily when he nodded along happily. He was so big now, standing closer to her shoulder than he had only a few months ago. His hair, unruly as ever, desperately needed cut. Embarrassingly for him, his voice had started cracking at the most random of times. Teenage-hood was just around the corner, and admittedly, it was rather bittersweet for Jo. The little boy that had appeared in her home was beginning to disappear before her eyes.

"D'you think she made another cake?"

"Oh, most definitely."

She wanted to hold onto him, her little boy who still needed her. The little boy who still hugged her and told her he loved her. The little boy who tried to outmaneuver her on the quiddich pitch. The little boy who took much too long in the bath, practicing making balls of water float through the room. The little boy who stared in awe at all things magic, still.

The little boy she could protect. The little boy she could keep safe from manipulative old men and unseen monsters.

Only one more year.


	23. Chapter 23 Reliance

**Chapter 23**

 **Reliance**

* * *

 **"I was shattered glass but you weren't a repairman."-Dominic Riccitello**

* * *

 **July 1991**

"Do you think they've forgotten?"

Harry had his fork raised, pausing mid-bite to ask the question. A question he had asked at least ten times in the past forty eight hours.

"They haven't forgotten."

Jo and Poppy shared just the slightest expression of amused exasperation, returning to their dinner when Harry only nodded. His face remained contemplative, nose wrinkling on and off as he clearly thought hard.

"They're clearly not going in alphabetical order. How much longer do you think?"

"Not much longer. Be patient, kid." Jo only shrugged in response, repeating the same answer she had given him for the past three days. He sighed deeply, leaning forward to rest his head on his hand with a groan. His nose wrinkled again, brain thinking and thinking as he pushed around clearly forgotten rice and fish.

This moping of his had become a regular practice since Monday. She and Poppy had the one and only Ronald Weasley to thank for it.

"Harry!"

Speaking of the little devil, Jo snorted at the echoing voice calling from the Grand Hall. Harry perked up instantly, slipping from his seat with barely an 'excuse me' to run down the hall. There were a few dogs lazing in the room, each perking their heads up in alarm when he sped through. Ron's head, the only part of the boy Harry could see in the green flames, smiled in relief at the sight of him.

"Did you get it? -Oy, shove off, I'm talking to Harry." Harry waited while Ron argued with one of his many family members, fidgeting and much too aggravated to find it amusing. "Sorry, mate. Well?"

"No," Harry sighed his answer, deflating sadly. "Jo says it should be coming soon."

"Wonder how they send them out? Weasley-"

"Comes after Potter. I know. I thought that too."

The two boys puzzled over it silently. A wet nose nuzzled into Harry's hand, Taffy staring at him curiously when he only gave her a halfhearted pat.

"Maybe they have the wrong address? What with you moving and all."

"I thought that too. Jo said they know the address."

They shared another sigh.

"You know, my mum said the letters are sent out throughout the whole week. It's only Wednesday, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Unfortunately, Harry didn't much desire to talk after that. He quickly bid Ron- and Ginny, and Fred and George, and Mr. And Mrs. Weasley- goodnight. When the green flames in the fireplace returned to normal, he dropped back onto his bum with yet another aggravated groan. There were only four days left, if they even delivered on Sunday; six if they didn't.

It had been a shock when Ron had barreled through the floo Monday afternoon. He'd been ridiculously excited, a letter in his hand as he ran through the house to find Harry. Poppy, and some of the more territorial dogs, were the first to find the shouting boy. She'd sat him in the kitchen, unable to understand a single word of his excited ramble after he'd started eating the treats she set out. When Harry and Jo had finally entered the kitchen, they were greeted by his shouting and a letter pressed into the green eyed boy's nose.

"I've got it! I got my acceptance letter!"

Harry, of course, eagerly anticipated the arrival of his own letter the following day. When it hadn't shown, a strange fear had gripped him. It circled his head, growing louder and louder at the continued absence of his letter.

"Am I not magical enough?" He finally voiced his question, sitting in the middle of his bed when Jo stepped in the room to bid him goodnight.

"Asks the boy who turns his bath water into fountains." Jo just raised an eyebrow at him, smiling wryly when he flushed in embarrassment. He instantly relaxed though, a calm wave of relief washing over him at her words. "Don't worry, kid. Your letter is coming."

"Patience?," he asked, smirking lightly when she gave him a finger gun of approval.

"Patience."

* * *

Leota Larke blinked.

Then she blinked again.

Her terrier, Rosco, was tugging desperately on the lead, hacking more than barking. She completely empathized with the poor creature.

Her wide eyes started at great big muddy boots, sized much larger than her own head. Up they traveled, taking in trousers that looked suspiciously like sheepskin. Around the knees, knees much higher than her own, a singed and well worn leather jacket began. Further and further up her eyes went, absorbing the nest of a beard and mane of thick curly dark hair. By the end of it, she had craned her neck so far she might as well be looking at the sky.

"Goo' morn'in."

 _My God,_ she thought, _it can speak_.

"Good morning."

Black eyes, the only visible part of his face, glanced at her nearly self-asphyxiated dog before he offered her a short nod. Then he simply took one step, equaling at least three of her own, to the left and walked past them.

And that's when she saw it.

In his hand, a battered bright pink umbrella.

"That's it. No more brandy in my coffee." With a resolute nod, Leota Larke and Rosco the dog resumed their sunny morning stroll of Sanitatum Drive.

* * *

Harry tried to stifle his yawn, eyes still heavy and hair definitely a mess, as he and Taffy padded towards the kitchen. He'd slept horribly last night, tossing and turning as terrible nightmares kept him awake. He'd dreamed he had been given a letter, a letter that told him he was **NOT** accepted to Hogwarts. He'd dreamed his lack of magical schooling left him a beggar on the streets of Diagon Alley. He'd dreamed he had been given a wand, only for it to splinter into dust when he tried to use it.

Terrible dreams. Terrible sleep.

Yawning once again, he paid little mind to Taffy's perked ears and rising fur. Until a quiet, rumbling growl started to shake her entire body, lips pulled back in a ferocious snarl as they stopped outside the kitchen vines.

"Why, this one's nearly as big as my Fang, she is! Look a' yeh, such a pretty thing yeh are." A booming voice suddenly exploded from the room. A voice Harry had never heard before. He glanced at Taffy with a raised brow, her growling turning quiet as they both listened.

"Yeah, well, she is a great dane." Jo responded, a chuckle in her voice.

"Wha' yeh doin' with all these mutts, Jo?" The voice sounded genuinely curious, though still very loud.

"Oh, they come and go as they please. None of them have taken to me as a familiar. Though, none of them ever did. Harry, however, he got one on the first try. Cute little golden mix, damn smart, too. Shame she can't go to Hogwarts with him."

 _Hogwarts?_

"Ah, righ', righ'. Yeh know, I sai' ter Albus, I sai' there's too many magical animals running abou' for the kids ter only be allowed one o' three. Everyone's differen', yeh need differen' animals."

Jo only hummed in response. The sound of sipping and cutlery moving clued Harry in that Jo was sharing breakfast with whoever it was in there. Obviously, if she didn't want him around, she wouldn't have invited the stranger to breakfast. Thankfully, Taffy had dropped her defensive posturing, making it that much easier for Harry to step through the vines.

"Morning," Jo rasped, smiling at him tiredly with squinted eyes. She'd clearly not finished her first cup of coffee yet.

"Morning." Harry looked nervously at the hulking back sat at the bar, the chair bowing just a bit under the weight. The dogs usually around Jo had circled the man with keen interest, many begging eyes and quiet whines pleading for attention. When Harry finally sat in his own seat, he had to stop himself from staring dumbly at the giant man. "Hullo?"

"Oh, look a' yeh. Yer so grown now. Why, las' time I saw yeh, yeh was jus' a little baby." Harry didn't quite know what to do when the giant man's eyes started watering, a great trumpeting sniffle startling the boy. "Spittin' image of yer dad, yeh are! Yer mum's eyes, though. Jus' look at yeh."

Jo, thankfully, leaned across the counter enough to look around the man. "Harry, this is Rubeus Hagrid, K-"

"Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." Rubeus Hagrid, remembering he actually had to introduce himself, interrupted with a proud puff of his chest, . He held out a large hand, shaking Harry's entire arm and torso. "An', I've brough' somethin' for yeh."

Harry watched as the man started reaching into one of his many coat pockets. He started mumbling curses as he continued fishing, switching between many pockets and pouches.

"Now, where'd I pu' the bloody thing…ouch, no' there…" Jo smirked into her coffee, deciding it was best not to know what all Hagrid kept on his person. "No…no…ah-ha!." Anxiously, Harry unconsciously leaned back slightly at the very serious expression on this Rubeus Hagrid's face.

"Now, yeh would've usually just gotten this in the mail, but Deumbledore gave me permission, o'course. I tol' 'im I wanted ter deliver it special ter yeh."

Slowly, from a pocket hidden inside the collar of his jacket, he pulled a thick, yellow envelope. Moving just as slow, Harry stretched out his hand to take it. There, on the front, addressed in emerald green ink, read:

 **Mr. H. Potter**

 **Delacroix Holdings**

 **6 Sanitatum Drive**

 **Little Whinging**

 **Surrey**

Flipping it over quickly, his heart beating much too loudly, he found the envelop sealed with a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lions, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter _H_.* A smile spread across his face at the sight of it. With shaking hands, he broke the seal and pulled out the thick parchment inside.

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL**

 _ **of**_ **WITCHCRAFT** _ **and**_ **WIZARDRY**

 **Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**

 **(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,**

 **Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)**

 _'Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of_

 _Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress'*_

"Well?" Jo prodded, smiling gently, although her face held just a touch of 'I told you so' in the expression.

"I…" He cut off, laughing just a bit, more so at how ridiculously worried he had been for the past week. "I've been accepted to Hogwarts."

"Well, o' course yeh were. Don' tell me yeh though' yeh wouldn'?" Rubeus Hagrid gave him a look of disbelief, the thought clearly preposterous to the man. "Why, yer gonna be a fine wizard. I be' my umbrella on it." Then the man did something odd. He snapped his mouth shut with an audible clack, eyes widening and jumping between Jo and Harry with speed. "I shouldn've sai' tha'."

"Anyways," Jo continued, smirking at the giant in clear amusement. "Next, we'll need to go to Diagon Alley."

"Shit." Harry's face instantly fell at the mention of the shopping district. Jo only nodded in sympathy, clearly of the same mindset, while Poppy and Hagrid stared at the ten-nearly eleven- year old boy in shock. Harry offered Poppy an apologetic smile, eagerly digging into his forgotten breakfast as he read through his list of needed supplies.

"Jo, hope yeh don' mind, but I was, well…I was hoping I coul' join yeh. Seeing as…" Hagrid trailed off bashfully, glancing between his large metal cup of tea and the ash haired witch. "I took him out of our worl', s'only fitting I bring 'im back, righ'?"

"Right." Jo smiled easily, more than happy to take Hagrid along. He didn't need to know Harry had become rather acquainted with the wizarding world in the last three years. It was the thought that counted.

Plus, she suspected people would think twice about approaching the kid with Hagrid looming about.

* * *

 **Diagon Alley**

 **1 August 1981**

Apparently, having Hagrid looming about did not create the desired effect.

Jo tried hard, really she did, not to glare. She understood it was all rather exciting for them, but…

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."*

"Diggle." The little wizard turned to beam up at her, mouth dropping open in shock once he realized just who had said his name. "Move. Please."

Diggle's top hat nearly fell off with how quickly he nodded his head, shuffling backwards into a witch waiting for her chance to shake Harry's hand- _again_. She sighed deeply through her nose, knowing full well her face had turned rather uninviting, as she tugged Harry back to her side. The crowd finally seemed to find their heads under her glare, giving the small group a wide berth. None of them should be too upset, she was certain they had all shook Harry's hand at least once, Doris Crockford at least five times.

"P-P-Potter."

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid exclaimed, waving forward a pale shaking young man. Jo and Harry turned, both noticeably grimacing when they saw one of his eyes twitch uncontrollably. "Harry, Professor Quirrell is the Defense Agains' the Dark Art's teacher. Yeh'll be seeing him quite a bi' at Hogwarts."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Harry reached a hand out. Quirrell shook and released his hand very quickly as he stammered.

"C-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to m-meet you, P-Potter."

Unlike the many other patrons in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell turned wide twitchy eyes on Jo. She frowned at him, unsure why he was staring at her so…defensively. He looked at her as if he couldn't quite figure out why she was there.

"M-miss Delacroix. It's g-good to see you after s-so long."

"Quirinus. What's with the turban?"

The strange man, very unlike the gawky Ravenclaw she remembered, released a shaky and grating high-pitched laugh.

"I d-don't like to b-boast."

"Oh, go on, Professor. Migh' as well tell Jo, here. Yeh earned it, yeh did."

"O-oh, alright. I-it was a g-gift from an Af-African p-prince. I t-took care of a zombie p-problem f-for his m-majesty."

Jo only hummed in response, her eyebrow rising even higher when he released that horrible laugh again. Catching Hagrid's eye over the strange man's head, she nodded for them to be on their way. He nodded gruffly, quickly bidding the professor and fellow patrons goodbye before waving them out of the way, so Harry and Jo could safely walk to the back.

"Merlin, you'd think they'd have better control," Jo groused, stepping forward to tap her wand against the bricks- three up, two across. Harry gave a little gasp as the bricks began to wiggle and jump about, melting away to form a large archway. "Right, we've never come this way, have we?"

"No!" He looked properly put out by it, actually. How could she act like this wasn't cool? _Adults_ , he thought contemptuously as they entered the packed alley.

"Aw, yeh've already been ter Diagon Alley?," Hagrid asked, disappointment clear in his voice. He had been so looking forward to introducing Harry to the shopping district.

"Yeah, but I've never actually gone in the shops. We had to go to the bank, Gren-Gro-"

"Gringotts." Jo and Hagrid both corrected him, the former looking very much like she'd rather be in a vat of lava than here.

Coincidentally, that was their first stop for the day. Thankfully, in the actual alley, Hagrid was wonderful at splitting the crowds. Jo and Harry walked closely behind the giant man, the boy getting his first in-depth look at the alley. His eyes bounced around rapidly, trying to read every shop sign as they passed.

A shop for Cauldrons.

An Apothecary.

Eeylops Owl Emporium.

The shop with racing brooms in its windows caught his full attention, and Jo had to physically pull him along until it was out of sight.

Soon enough, they were climbing the pristine stairs of the largest building in the alley- Gringotts. The same goblin guard from the last time bowed them through the golden doors, barely concealing a sneer as he very much remembered the two humans. Hagrid led the way, approaching the only open goblin at the long desk. Jo and Harry looked around as he conducted his business, watching as jewels and coins were weighed and recorded in large ledgers.

"-Also, we've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, sir?"

Jo turned her head curiously at that, stepping forward to offer her own vault key.

"Got it here, somewhere," answered Hagrid, already patting down his many pockets.

"Hagrid, what vault is that for?"

He only grunted at her, spilling rock hard dog biscuits and a few knuts onto the counter.

"Got it." From his pocket, he produced a tiny gold key. The goblin seized it immediately, looking toward his desk pointedly. "Oh, righ'." Hagrid instantly began brushing the biscuits and knuts back into his pockets. "Why, tha's his parents' vault, t'is. Didn' yeh know abou' it?"

"No, can't say that I did." Jo rolled her eyes, decidedly not surprised Dumbledore hadn't mentioned it. Rather, she was slightly surprised Rodkur hadn't informed her. On second thought, perhaps she wasn't, considering he _is_ a goblin,

"Griphook!"

The summoned goblin quickly led them to the rail cart, yet another thing Harry hadn't known about. He gave her a very pointed look at the sight of it, to which he received only a ruffle of his hair and a wink.

"Only two!"

"Since when?"

"Only two, Miss. The man counts as more than one."

Harry gave her the most pleading look, much too excited to wait for another cart. Sighing, Jo just shrugged and nodded.

"Fine. Just be careful, and listen to Griphook. Don't need you falling out of the cart." She helped him into the cart before leaning down to murmur in his ear. "I hear there's a dragon down there. Keep an eye out, yeah?"

The sheer look of amazed curiosity was so worth it. She gave the two a lazy wave as the cart began to roll, chuckling to herself as Harry set himself against the edge to better see out. Poor Hagrid had already turned white, his large hands clutching the sides as they suddenly sped off. With another little sigh, Jo settled against the wall to wait for their return.

After Gringotts, they'd decided on going to Madam Malkin's first, seeing as it was closest to the bank. Hagrid left them at the door, claiming a need for a pick me up after the ride underground.

"Hogwarts, dear?" Madam Malkin, covered head to toe in mauve, descended on Harry instantly. "Got the lot here- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

Harry turned back to stare at her with wide eyes as he was dragged away, scowling rather fiercely when she only waved and chuckled. She smiled easily again, once more leaning against a wall, as he was placed on a stool next to a pale blond haired boy. She could see the other boy speaking to Harry, the two talking quietly as the seamstresses pinned their robes.

Bored, she looked around at the shop. It hadn't changed, really. Of course, the robes and such were much more modern, but that was about all the difference she could see. Still the same purple and blue carpet. Still the same greeter counter. Still the same paintings on the walls. Still the same mannequins- she would know, Katie had knocked the left hand off the one in the window in '75 and, panicking, had just taken it with her. Sighing, she turned back just in time to watch as Harry, red in the face, started yelling at the other boy.

"Yeah, well the greatest woman I know was a Hufflepuff!"

"Obviously, she's not very great if she was a 'puff," drawled the blond boy, staring down his nose at her boy. "Probably one of those sort, isn't she?"

And oh Merlin, did she know that expression on that pointy face, all too well.

" _Cock_." Of course, this would be the boy they run into, today. Exhaling harshly through her nose, she approached the boys. The seamstresses gave her a pleading look, dearly hoping she would diffuse the two. "Hey, kid. What's all the commotion?"

Harry and the boy, who was clearly a Malfoy, turned to stare at her with very differing expressions. Harry's cheeks were still pink, eyebrows drawn down angrily. The other, well, he'd started off bored- only his bright, sapphire blue eyes widened and his mouth formed the tiniest of an 'O' in surprise.

"He's insulting you and your house. And I sai-"

"I know you." The boy, if she remembered correctly his name was Draco, exclaimed loudly. Harry glowered at the interruption, hands balling into fists. "You're the head of the Delacroix family."

"And you're Draco Malfoy."

That seemed to please the boy immensely, her knowing his name. He puffed out his little chest, a smug expression on his face as he nodded eagerly.

"That's right. Is this your son? I hadn't known you had a child." His sapphire eyes glittered greedily as he stared at Harry again. "I suppose you're right, after all. Hufflepuff can't be that bad if a Delacroix was in it."

Harry just scoffed, turning his head away to stare at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't like this Draco Malfoy. He was too much like Dudley.

The bell above the door tinkled, and Jo and Harry turned, expecting to see Hagrid. However, instead they found a tall man, long blond hair tied neatly at his neck and a cane in hand. Jo couldn't help the old feeling of exasperation, watching as he scrunched his nose and tilted his chin up. _The great preening prat._

"Salazar, how long does an eleven year old boy's fitting take?" Just like his son, although much deeper, he drawled his words to sound as if he were always addressing commoners.

The witch kept her face and body passive, stepping between Harry and the man. The action gained his attention easily, lips twitching as if he was fighting the tiniest of smiles. The two stared at one another, matching sapphire eyes trying to find _something_ in the other.

"Josephine," he murmured her name, face softening for only a moment as he inclined his head in a brief nod.

"Lucius." She only frowned, arms crossing loosely as she watched him appraise her. When his eyes began to slide passed her, eyebrows rising slightly at the head of wild dark hair over her shoulder, she blocked his view even more. "You don't look at him."

Her words were quiet, the raspy low tone so very nostalgic, he couldn't even dream of disobeying them. He offered yet another nod, hands flaring in a way only a Malfoy could to appear nonthreatening. Releasing a long breath through her nose, she remained stoically in his way.

"Now, Josephine, don't you think you're acting a touch defensive?"

"Oh, shut up, Lucius. Don't fucking use that tone on me."She couldn't help rolling her eyes. She always fucking hated it when he did that, speaking so smugly- as if he were the smartest man in the room.

"Ooh, so crass. What would your mother say?"

"Not much, considering she's dead. I'd imagine you'd know all about that, though."

She only quirked an eyebrow when he frowned, an expression of annoyance flickering across his face. He wanted to play, to pretend nothing had changed. She really didn't have the patience, though.

"Josephine." He said her name softly again, a warning she supposed.

"Lucius," she mimicked back, lips quirking up as his frown twisted into a scowl.

"You're just as unreasonable as ever, I see." He sighed dramatically, waving a hand to emphasize his disappointment in her. "I'm attempting to have a civil, friendly even, conversation, and here you are, stubborn and predictable as ever."

"Oh? I'm the predictable one? Please." She snorted, flipping her hair dramatically and raising her nose high into the air. "Oh look at me, I'm Lucius Malfoy. All of you are peasants, and I am your King. Listen to the way I drawl and bend my neck strangely. I'm clearly better than all of you in every way. Here, I'll smirk and appear ever so smug, _all of the time_ , to prove it. Ta-ta-ta."

Harry wasn't quite sure what was happening, right now. The boy beside him had gone very still, eyes wide and pale skin turning near translucent as his father and Jo, well, _bickered_. He really couldn't think of any other way to describe it. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Jo act this way before.

"Please, do the world a favor; don't quit whatever pathetic and worthless thing it is you do now. And yes, _predictable,_ " Lucius sneered, drawing the word out in a ridiculous fashion. "Here, I'll describe exactly what you're going to do next. You'll frown, do that atrocious animal like snorting through your nose, and somehow, find an inexplicable reason to curse like a drunk commoner at the pub. Go on then, prove me right."

"Oh, fuck off, Lucius." She exhaled sharply through her nose, lips twisting downward as irritation flared through her.

 _Cock_. She froze, realizing she had quite literally checked off his entire little list. And Lucius, the smug bastard, just quirked an eyebrow and smirked. He didn't even have to voice his 'I told you so'.

"You know, you're not nearly as clever as you think you are." She said it lowly, much too quiet for Harry or Draco to hear. Lucius instantly softened at the words, his sneer dissolving into a humorless smirk.

"And you are not nearly as clever as you should be."

Jo couldn't help the sigh, torn on how she should act towards the man. It seems he hadn't changed much. Yet, she had. She was no longer the girl he had known like the back of his hand. They had chosen very opposite paths, leading them to opposite sides of a war.

A war long over.

Where does that leave them? Are they still enemies?

"Well, that's it. You're done, dear."

Harry jumped down as quickly as he could, approaching Jo curiously. When she caught his eye, she only smiled weakly and laid their total on the counter. They didn't stop to introduce him to the man who definitely knew Jo well. She kept a firm hold on his arm, blocking the man from looking at him the entire time. Lucius only smiled at her frosty glare.

"Until next time, cousin."

Outside, they quite literally bumped into Hagrid, who had been staring through the window with a glare the boy hadn't thought him capable of. In his hands were three, very nearly melted, ice cream cones

"Wha's Lucius bleeding Malfoy doin' here?"

"Cousin?!"

Jo only hummed, accepting a cone with a nod in thanks.

"Well, what next, kid?"

Harry grumbled some, but fished his supplies list out of his pocket, regardless. He would just pester her about it later, anyways. They decided to split up then, Jo handing Hagrid some coins with clear instructions on what to buy in the Apothecary and cauldron shop. She and Harry would go to the book shop and a parchment and quill shop. Afterwards, they agreed to meet outside of Ollivanders, both adults excited to witness Harry receive his wand.

Even with all the amazing books- he'd had to duck and avoid periwinkle tomes with wings- he was stuck on questioning Jo about her 'cousin'.

"Yes, Harry, my cousin. Just like you, my father's brother produced a spoiled little boy who lives a very different life than mine."

"Yeah, but…he was so…gross." Harry wrinkled his nose just thinking about the man and his son. He couldn't see how they were related to his Jo, at all. Then again, he supposed people had probably thought the same of him and Dudley.

"Wasn't he just?" Jo snorted, chuckling quietly as they dropped his books on the counter. "He was a snobby little prat as a boy, and he's a snobbly little prat of a man. It's just…" She stopped to chuckle again, shaking her head and sighing.

She couldn't quite describe why she found Lucius so humorous. Perhaps, it was because they had grown up together. They had been each others' first friends, after all. Oh, they'd fought, viciously at times, but they had always been family. It might have been because she had seen him in some of the most embarrassing and ugly situations, which made his ridiculous attitude all the funnier.

Even still, she knows what he is. She knows he had chosen the other side. That he really advocated such terrible thoughts and beliefs. The belief to eradicate and enslave people like her husband and friends.

But…

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, was a little boy who hadn't. There was the little boy who had been awed by muggle technology and activities. This little boy who had been amazed when they went to the cinema. The little boy who had a secret, highly cherished collection of toy muggle cars. The little boy who had wanted, so terribly, to go to the moon one day- "Don't laugh at me, Josephine. I'm going to be an astronaut!"

And it was foolish, ridiculously foolish, but she never stopped thinking that that little boy had just been beaten down inside the man. Waiting to be free again.

"There are only two things you need to know about him, kid. First, he's not a good person, Harry. He's…just not good." She sighed sadly, gazing at Harry with very stern eyes. "If you ever run into him without me, you get the hell away from him, got it?" He nodded quickly in response, earning himself a slight smile.

"And second, if he ever tries to act all intimidating and fucking holier-than-thou: call him Lucy. He _hates_ it." Harry cracked a smile at that, tucking the name away to never be forgotten. "Now, enough about that prat. Time for the piece de resistance: your wand."

They had to wait a few minutes, peering up and down the alley for any sight of Hagrid. Just as Harry was sure he was going to burst from unbridled excitement, Hagrid appeared, a large covered cage in hand.

"Sorry bou' that'. Had ter get yeh a birthday gif', didn' I? Not everyday yeh turn eleven, now s'it?" And just like that, the lure of a wand was tamped down. With as much flourish as the man could manage, his other arm laden with potion supplies and a cauldron, Hagrid pulled the cover from the cage. "Seeing as yeh can't take yer dog, I though' yeh could use a proper companion. O'course, owls are the only respectable one on the lis'. Dead useful, ter- carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Harry positively beamed, stepping closer to look in at the beautiful snowy white owl. She had her head tucked under a wing, fast asleep in the middle of the bustling alley.

"Th-thank you so much, Mr. Hagrid!"

"Oh, jus' call me Hagrid. Erry'one else does." Hagrid responded gruffly, a blush peeking through his nest of a beard.

"Thanks, Hagrid. That was really thoughtful. I'd completely forgotten about getting his familiar." Jo smiled up at the man. Impossibly, he'd gone an even darker red, stammering for them to not mention it.

They spent a few more moments, cooing and ogling the beautiful bird, before Harry suddenly remembered why exactly they were standing in front of the dusty old shop. He quickly led their group into Ollivanders. This is what he had truly been waiting for, all day. Finally, his very own wand!

The tinkling of a bell from somewhere deep inside the shop announced their entrance. It was surprisingly small inside, dark and dusty, with small narrow boxes piled from floor to ceiling. Hagrid, floor creaking dangerously in his wake, lumbered over to the lone spindly chair. Harry stared around nervously as the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.*

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.*

Harry was sure he hadn't been the only one startled. Jo released a long, shaky sigh.

"Merlin," she muttered, hand on her chest as she scowled at the old man.

Garrick Ollivander only stared at them, wide eyed and overall gloomy looking.

"Hello." Harry offered, heart still beating much too fast.

"Ah yes. Yes. Yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." Just like when she was a child, Garrick Ollivander absolutely gave her the creeps. His pale eyes focused intently on Harry, his legendary tape measure already gliding towards the boy. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Jo coughed awkwardly, unnerved by how closely he had moved towards Harry. She could see Harry's shoulders beginning to rise, clearly discomforted by the strange man. However, it was almost an initiation of sorts, no matter how weird. Finding your wand at Ollivanders was a once in a lifetime experience.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

"Of course," Harry mumbled. Jo had told him that.

That seemed to catch the strange old man's interest, his unblinking eyes lighting up. However, they soon left Harry's bright green, going higher and higher, before zeroing in on his scar.

"And that's where…."

When he lifted his skeletal hand, intent on touching Harry's scar, Jo decided that was too far. She coughed forcefully this time, stepping forward to frown deeply at the old man. He merely glanced at her, though he did lower his hand.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it." His voice softened even more, Jo and Hagrid straining to even hear him. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands….well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world o do…."

He finished with a sad sigh, shaking his head slowly. Then, quite suddenly, he instead focused those pale eyes on the ash haired witch.

"Josephine Delacroix. Two wands. Both ten-and-a-quarter inches. For the right, Black Cedar. For the left, a delightful mixture of Acacia and Blackthorn. Both fairly pliable and excellent for transfiguration." Then, just as quickly, he turned his attention to Hagrid. "Rubeus Hagrid. Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir. Yes." Hagrid held his umbrella just a bit behind him.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" The old man gave him a rather stern look, eyes narrowing slightly when the giant nodded and hummed. Once again, Jo coughed awkwardly, nodding slightly towards Harry- Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief once Ollivander's attention shifted.

"Hmmm. Right, then-" the old man turned his attention back to Harry, waving his tape measure forward. "Mr. Potter, yes, let's see. Which is your wand arm?"

"Ehm…" Harry glanced questioningly back at Jo. "I'm right handed?"

"Hold out your arm. That's it." The tape measure jumped to work, measuring the length of Harry's arm. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results out of another wizard's wand."*

He turned away, walking nimbly around the counter and stacks of wands. His long pale fingers danced over boxes, before suddenly plucking a box out of the hundreds.

"That will do," he told the tape measure, which crumpled to the ground instantly. "Here you are, Mr. Potter. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Jo and Hagrid leaned forward, but quickly sighed when Ollivander snatched it back nearly as quick as Harry had picked it up.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy."

But he took it back as well.

"No, no- here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on."

Jo's eyebrows raised higher and higher as Harry was handed more and more wands. She wasn't sure he had even swished a single one before Ollivander, rather excited now, snatched it back. The old wand maker had gained a, dare she call it, happy and frenzied energy about him, running to-and-fro to gather many different wands.

"Tricky customer, eh? Just like your guardian, I see. Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder now- yes, why not-"

Harry turned to them while Ollivander flitted around, rambling as he searched for a specific wand. Hagrid gave him an encouraging thumbs up, smiling widely.

"Took me a while, too. Trust me, he knows what's what." Jo offered her own small encouraging smile, nodding for him to turn back around. Ollivander had another box in hand, floating through his stacks like a specter. Harry nodded once, face softening of his building frustration.

"Here. An unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand gently. Jo and Hagrid leaned forward in anticipation, their excitement growing when Ollivander did not immediately repossess it. The wand maker nodded encouragingly, and Harry gave it a great wave. Sparks of red and gold shot from the end- crackling and bright like a firework.

The three adults instantly cheered and clapped causing Harry to smile brightly down at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry as Ollivander continued to mumble. "But _what's_ curious?"

The old man took a second, lifting his old pale eyes to fix on the boy with a somber yet inquisitive expression.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar."

The three shoppers visibly startled, Hagrid and Jo recoiling with horror and shock at the revelation.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things-terrible, yes, but great."

Harry visibly shivered, backing up a step from the wand maker. Jo stepped forward then, frowning deeply.

"Mr. Oll-"

"I'm sorry, Miss Delacroix, but I cannot give the boy another wand. The wand chooses the wizard."

"But isn't this…it feels _wrong_."

Ollivander didn't seem to share her concerns. He only cocked his head, expression owl-like as he considered her.

"I can hear them…"

"What? What are you even talking about?"

"Your wands." His vacant expression disappeared, eyes narrowing up at her sternly. "I can hear your wands, Josephine Delacroix."

She stared at him in confusion, but wordlessly handed the two wands over when he held out his hands expectantly. He held them gently, raising first the red and then the black to his ears. His eyes slid shut, mouth turning down lower and lower as the seconds passed. As he listened.

"Hmm…yes. Yes. You've faced great upheaval, haven't you?" He hummed and nodded again, hearing something the rest most definitely could not. "Miss Delacroix, you have severely upset your wands."

She shuffled uncomfortably, unsure what that could mean. Was it her core? Was it her new elemental practice? Were the wands no longer compatible with her?

"The bond is still there, that is good. This one," he held up the acacia and blackthorn. "is still very fond of you, very forgiving and protective. Hm, but this one-" the black cedar suddenly released a high pitched whine, shooting a bright red spark into the air. "Yes, well, it is very angry."

"I-I lost my magic."

"Before that?" She only frowned in response, slowly shaking her head- but he already knew. "There is still a bond, but it is very weak, Miss Delacroix. You must rebuild the trust between you and your wands. You understand this- the wand chooses the wizard. They chose you for a reason, and you have let them down. You betrayed your bond."

Gently, she took them from his hands with a sad little frown. They warmed in her hands, as they always had, but she could feel it. There was a distance, a hesitation in their response to her touch. With a curt nod, she replaced them in their holsters with a sigh.

"I should have realized…" Shaking her head, she reached into her pocket to retrieve the galleons for Harry's wand.

"Mr. Ollivander?," Harry called softly, accepting his boxed wand with a little smile.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

He hesitated, though, quickly glancing between the wand maker and Jo. She quirked an eyebrow, but he only turned away awkwardly. With a snort, she offered him an easy smile before nodding for Hagrid to head out.

Harry watched the two adults leave before quickly turning back to the creepy old man. When he opened his mouth to ask, though, the man interrupted.

"Is it possible that you're confused as to why Miss Delacroix has two wands, instead of the common one?" Harry's cheeks turned pink, but he nodded quickly. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask such a thing.

"It was…curious. You see Mr. Potter, when I was young, I was offered a very rare gift- two tail feathers of a thunderbird. Just like the phoenix feather in your own wand, these two feathers were given from the same bird. I worked endlessly to fashion them into wands- one with acacia and blackthorn, and the other with black cedar."

The old man offered him a strange little smile. Harry found the expression even creepier than the man's owl like stare.

"They sat here for many, many years. If one reacted to a customer, the other would cry at the possibility of separation. Frankly, I thought I had created unusable wands, or that perhaps, thunderbird feathers were much more temperamental than I had been led to believe. Either way, I had no choice but to shut them away in the back. That is, until August of 1961. You thought you had tried many wands today, yes?" A strange wheeze left him. It took Harry a moment to realize it was apparently a laugh.

"After nearly fifty wands, and a clearly despondent little girl brought to near tears; I thought, well, perhaps one of those wands. I brought the two out, intent on her trying one at a time, but she picked them each up, and Mr. Potter- they _sang_." With another wheeze of a laugh, Mr. Ollivander shook his head and stared past Harry at the witch in question. "Of course, only after all of that puzzling and panic did she tell me she could write with _both_ hands."

"You mean…Jo has two wands because she's an ama-amv-amber-"

"Ambidextrous, yes. Yes, that is precisely why."

* * *

Jo held both wands in front of her. She inspected them slowly from handle to tip, noting each nick and scratch as a personal failure. It had been quite a long time since she had last polished them. With a sigh, she decided perhaps that would be a good place to start.

"Accio-"

Snorting, she once again brought the red wand to eye level and just stared at it. It had never faltered, so she didn't understand her sudden fear that it would.

Feeling rather foolish, she slowly raised the wand to her ear.

Would she hear her partner's cries of negligence? Could she hear this mourning of their bond the wand maker had described?

No.

All she could hear was the magically created wind.

With a shake of her head, she brought the wand back down to wave and twist it for her spell.

"Accio, wand polish set."

It wasn't the red wand she had to worry about, though. The red wand hadn't decided, all on its own, to throw sparks and whine. Like a damn temper tantrum.

The black cedar looked rather worn in the light. She could remember when it had shined, polished to perfection every week. Now, it looked bland and dull, nicked and scratched- last polished ten years ago.

"So, you're angry I haven't used you, yeah? Is that what's got you so wound up?" Of course, it didn't respond. There was no whine or a spark. "OR are you jealous? Between you and your brother, I would definitely peg you as the jealous type."

That actually made some foolishly weird sense. In all this time since she had started using her magic again, her left wand had been favored. What else was she expected to do, though? Her left wand had always performed passive and defensive spells, and her right had always been on the offensive. The left her shield, the right her sword.

She hadn't been in need of a sword.

Frowning, she contemplated on that new thought as the polish kit finally entered the desert room. She caught it easily, but dropped it quickly. A theory was starting to take form in her mind.

"You know," she said to her black cedar wand. "I've read that some wands are prone to catching their wizard's robes on fire when they've been left idle for too long. Or that they cast different spells than the caster had intended. Is that what this is? You're bored, right?"

She stomped her right foot, propelling three head sized stones into the air. Instincts she hadn't relied on for a long time took hold, her right arm whipped forward.

"Bombarda."

"Depulso."

"Inflamari."

The first exploded, tiny rock shards blowing away from the point of impact. The second blasted away, embedding itself into a large boulder on the other side of the room. The third was encompassed in flames, falling to the ground as it burned a bright cherry red.

Now, _that_ felt good.

Adrenaline suddenly pumped through her, an energy she hadn't felt in a long while pushing her into action. She kicked rocks and boulders into the air, only to blast them to pieces a second later. Without much thought, she dropped her verbal commands as spells of varying colors and strength shot from her wand rapidly.

It felt _really_ good.

* * *

Harry and Taffy watched as a toddler boy giggled and squealed, running on uncoordinated legs as his father gave a slow chase. They were off to the side, sitting under the shade of an oak tree at the edge of the park. Abigail had asked him to meet her here today, and he was dreading it.

Glancing around, unsure if he really wanted to see the girl approaching just yet, Harry tried to once again think of how he was going to tell her. It was an unpleasant feeling. The kind of feeling that clenched your stomach and weighed down your heart. The feeling of sweaty palms and legs that couldn't help but jiggle. A terribly overwhelming feeling of sadness that you just couldn't shake.

The feeling of saying goodbye.

"Harry!"

Taffy perked up instantly, barking softly in greeting as Abigail ran over to them. Harry stared at her with wide eyes, a lump forming in his throat at just the sight of her.

"H-hey, Abigail." Still far too wrapped up in his own head, it took Harry a moment to notice Abigail's deep frown and withdrawn expression. "What's wrong?"

She opened her mouth, but after a pause, she only sighed and shook her head sadly. Instead, she threw herself across the bench to grip onto him in a tight hug. The tightness in his throat returned as he realized how nice it was to just hug her. It might be their last one, after all.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I tried- really. I begged for them not to, but after…well, after 'the incident', they've-" Her mumbles, which had been directed into his shoulder, cut off with a sniffle. "They're sending me away. To a boarding school."

"A boarding school?"

She nodded, pulling away to wipe at her nose and eyes with a little huff. She absolutely hated crying in front of others.

"Right, they said it would be 'safer', and it offers a better curriculum than the public school. I told them I wouldn't go, but…" She huffed loudly this time, glaring at the ground with a pout. "They said I don't have a choice."

"Oh." Oh, indeed. A sudden hope had filled him. Maybe, she was lying. What if this boarding school…what if Abigail was a witch? "Is…is it called _Hogwarts_?" He whispered the name, leaning in close to stare up at her hopefully.

"Hog…warts?" She said it slowly, face scrunching in confusion and disgust. "No. It's an all girls school. It's called Badminton School, near Bristol."

Harry's face instantly fell, hopes dashed and sadness returning.

"That's alright. I'm being sent off, too. Hogwarts. In Scotland."

"Scotland! Jesus, that's far. Why are you going there?" She stared at him expectantly, curious as ever while her own troubles were set to the side. Harry only sighed and shrugged, reaching down to pat Taffy on the head.

"My parents went there, Jo too. Guess it's just expected." Harry smiled slightly then, though it looked rather sad. "I got excited for a minute there. Thought we were being sent off to the same place. Are you going to be okay? You know, we can write each other."

"Oh, like how you write Lenny oh-so religiously?" Harry instantly flushed pink as she cackled at him. Though, she quickly froze him with a stern glare, poking him harshly in the shoulder with that inherited wicked straight finger of her's. "You had better write me, Harry Potter. I'm. Your. Best. Friend."

"Merlin, okay, okay- oh my god, stop!- yes." He caught her finger, leaning his body as far away as he could. Her face brightened instantly, a grand smile replacing her pursed lips. "I promise. I'll write you as often as I can."

"Good. I'll hold you to it." Suddenly, she jumped up. Taffy joined her, tail wagging and butt wiggling in anticipation. "Come on, my parents wanted me to invite you for lunch. Seeing as I leave next week."

"So soon?" Though, he would be leaving the same time, it surprised him. It hadn't really hit him until then. Next week, he'd be off to Hogwarts. No Jo. No Abigail. No Poppy. No Taffy. "Are you excited?"

"Nah. Think I'll try to flunk out. Then my parents will have to let me come home."

He couldn't tell if she was being serious or not, but laughed along with her anyways. It wouldn't surprise him if she did. She was the most stubborn person he'd ever met.

"Think I could get my parents to send me to this Pigfarts? I'd much rather go to school with you."

" _Hogwarts_. And…" He couldn't think of a good enough reason to tell her no. She didn't seem to mind, though, already laughing at the name of his school.

"What a silly thing to name a school. Hogwarts." She cackled again before gripping his hand in hers. "Promise me something?"

"Another promise? You're awfully greedy today." He tried to dodge her lethal point, but yelped and laughed when she caught him between the ribs.

"Oh, shove it. Listen, when we come home for the summer, promise…pinky promise that we'll still be friends?" Her brown eyes bore into his green, large and pleading. Perhaps even a touch scared. She really couldn't stand the thought of Harry no longer being her friend.

"Yeah," he said slowly, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. "That's a promise I can definitely keep."

"Good."

Then they sealed the deal, pinkies locking in a promise they locked inside their hearts.

* * *

 **September**

The First of September smacked Jo in the face like a hammer. It had come so fast, much too quickly for her head to wrap around. How was it already the first?

Poppy and Harry ran around her, yelling back and forth as they double-triple-quadruple checked his trunk. His poor owl- Hedwig, he called her- hooted and glared at the pouting Taffy. The poor dog had been rather miffed by the bird's presence, or perhaps jealous was the better word. If Hedwig the owl moved, Taffy the dog followed- ready to pounce at all times.

"Young Harry has his toothbrush, yes?"

"Yes, Poppy. I have my toothbrush," Harry ground out, attempting to shove an almost forgotten shoe into the heaving trunk. "Oh, wait! Poppy, have you seen my wand?"

"You lost your wand?" Jo's question and exasperation were largely ignored by the two, who were now searching under the dresser and bed. "Quite literally the only thing you actually need at Wizard school, and you _lost_ it?"

"I didn't mean to! I just…was…practicing…AH-HA!" Harry squirmed out from under the bed victoriously waving his wand. "Just the movements. Not the actual spells, of course."

"Of course," she repeated dryly, not in the least bit believing that innocent face of his. "Right, can we leave now? Train departs in twenty minutes."

"Oh Young Harry, you's be a good boy, yes? You's brush your teeth? And eat breakfast? And lunch and dinner? And go to bed at a good time? And you's be making lots of friends? And-" Poppy had wrapped herself around the boy, sniffling and sobbing into his chest as she rattled off her reminders. Harry, eyes a touch misty, returned the embrace with as much force. By the time they had finished their goodbye, they had fifteen minutes.

"Right, so first years have to go through the station. After this year we can apparate directly on the platform," Jo explained, rushing them through King's Cross after apparating them into an alley across the road. "You have to go through 9 3/4 first."

"Where is platform 9 3/4?" Harry tried to keep up with her, pushing his trolley along quickly. Hedwig hooted in irritation when he jostled the cage in an attempt to avoid a group of businessmen.

"Packed with muggles of course-"

They turned at the familiar voice, Harry brightening even more at the sight of many redheads.

"Ron!"

Molly and the children perked at the sight of the two, Ron shouting his hello over the chaos.

"Harry! Mum, look!" Of course, Molly had already began pushing through the muggles toward them.

"Oh, hello, dears! Are you as excited as Ronald?" She enveloped Harry in a quick, crushing hug before offering a nod in greeting to Jo. "We have to hurry. The train leaves in ten minutes!"

"Right, this way." Percy commanded them, deciding to head their large group through the throngs of commuters- many of which stared at them strangely as they passed. Jo noticed his chest had been pushed forward, a shiny prefect badge pinned to his jacket lapel.

"Made prefect, Percy?"

"Oh, you just had to ask," Fred groaned.

"He hasn't shut up about it since he got it in the mail." George continued.

"A month ago." They finished together, faces identically pulled down in disgusted frowns.

"Quiet, you two. It's very respectable to earn a prefect title. You two should be putting those brains of yours to better use, and try to be more like Percy." The twins looked particularly horrified at the thought, George even retching dramatically. Molly only sighed, turning her attention away from the troublemakers. "You two, promise me, you will not act like Fred and George. If you have any problems, why you go and find Percy. He'll handle things properly."

Harry and Ron mumbled some form of an agreement. Honestly, they weren't sure they could ever think of the things Fred and George could. Those two were scary brilliant. But they weren't about to tell Molly Weasley that.

"Right, here we are," Jo said, nodding Harry towards the brick column between platforms 9 and 10. "Watch the older boys."

"Alright then, Percy, you go first." The oldest boy nodded, quickly walking towards the brick divider. Even though Jo had told him how you got to the platform, Harry still held his breath as he watch Percy disappear inside the column. "Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said Fred. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell_ I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred." With a devious smirk, Fred ran off through the barrier, George hot on his heels. Then it was Ron's turn.

"See you on the other side!" Ron nodded once, smiling nervously before he jogged away. Harry's stomach twisted itself into a nervous knot when Ron disappeared as well.

"Ready?," Jo asked, right hand on his back as the other gripped his cart handle.

"Ready."

Together, they jogged towards the very solid looking column. Instincts taking over, Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the point of impact, but of course, nothing happened.

He peeled his eyes open when Jo chuckled quietly and pulled them to a stop. A little gasp left him at the sight of the large scarlet steam engine. Families crowded the platform, teenagers greeting one another loudly as many owls and cats and toads voiced their displeasure at being crammed into cages and carriers. A sign overhead flashed the words Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock.

"Right, you only have ten minutes. Let's get you on the train." Jo's voice startled him. He nodded quietly, pushing his cart forward towards the train. "Pretty nostalgic, this. I wasn't sure I'd ever see it again."

Harry looked at her curiously, watching as she stared around the platform with a tiny smile. Soon, they were standing before the train, and Harry wasn't sure he was ready to say goodbye. Jo wasn't sure she was either.

"I'm gonna miss you, kid." He sank into her side easily. He almost didn't want to let go.

"I'm gonna miss you too. I'll see you at Christmas, though, right?"

"Right." She smiled that little smile again, leaning down to hug him properly. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

The Weasleys stood near them, loudly saying their good-byes and Molly's usual 'behave yourselves'. The twins suddenly announced something about blowing up toilets, making Jo and Harry laugh.

"Don't blow any toilets up, yeah?"

"Aw, man. There goes my weekend," he groaned playfully, snapping his fingers in disappointment. Jo only chuckled, ruffling his hair affectionately. A great loud whistle sounded then, and everyone on the platform started swarming the train. "Guess that's my cue."

"Sounds like it." She smiled down at him, nodding for him to go. However, just as he took his first step, he turned and jumped at her. She caught him easily, heart warming considerably as he squeezed her tightly one more time.

"Christmas?"

"Christmas."

"Right. Only a few months." He nodded resolutely, beginning to turn away as Jo waved him off. "Love you."

"Love you, too. Now get on the train before it leaves you," she said with a chuckle, even as her throat clogged a bit. He nodded again, this time properly heading away from her and onto the train. Fred and George helped him with his trunk on the steps, hauling it into the car as he turned to wave at her just as the train jumped to life.

She and many other parents stood on the platform, waving with sad little smiles as their children got farther and farther away. All too soon, all they could see was the smoke in the distance. With a sad little sigh, Jo turned away, and found Molly Weasley watching her with a smile full of understanding. She snorted at the great pout Ginny sported from her side- the girl sore as ever about being left behind.

"Tea always makes me feel better, dear."

"Tea sounds great."

* * *

" _WELL_ …What's it say? What house is he in? Does he like it there? Has he learned any new spells? Has-"

"Shush, let her finish reading," Katherine snapped at her oldest daughter, leveling her second daughter with a stern glare when she tried to scrape her broccoli onto the floor for the waiting dogs .

Jo, squinting and glaring, read the letter she had received bright and early this morning from Harry's owl. Katie rolled her eyes, noticing the glasses hidden beneath the morning paper just beside her friend. She really was a stubborn pillock.

"Gryffindor of course. Where else?" She snorted, finally passing the letter for Madison to read on her own. Becca and William gave a little cheer while Madison groaned, slumping dramatically after reading the words. They'd had a wager of sorts, Madison having bet Hufflepuff. Jo didn't say it out loud, but she thought Madison just wanted a friend when she got to school.

"Good for him. I'm sure he's pleased as ever," Katie said, trying and failing to push a spoon of mashed broccoli into Caleb's mouth. The one year old erupted into giggles, leaning to the left and right rapidly to dodge the spoon. "Fine, go ahead and starve then."

"I'll feed him, mama." And of course, with big brother Liam holding the spoon, Caleb ate every last bite. Katherine only shrugged. As long as he ate, she didn't much care how it happened.

"How's he like it then?," Katie asked, turning her attention back to the conversation. "I'm sure Ron's in Griffindor as well."

"Says he likes it so far. Not a fan of Peeves, then again who is?"

They finished their lunch, conversation of Harry and Hogwarts in full swing. After, Poppy took Madison, Becca and Liam to play in the nursery. William, yawning nearly as much as Caleb, holed away in Harry's room for a nap with the youngest boy.

"So."

"Don't go stealing my line, you bint." Jo groused and rolled her eyes, but relented quickly with an easy smile. "So?"

"How are you holding up?" The blonde asked gently, face softening with open concern. "Back to just you and Poppy now. I'm sure that's strange."

Jo shrugged but, then thinking better of it, started to nod.

"Yeah," she sighed, waving the percolator across the kitchen. "It's so quiet now. Pretty boring, actually. Poor Taffy and I have taken to moping in bed."

That was, unfortunately, not an exaggeration. The little retriever mix just looked so sad, whining pitifully on Harry's bed. She herself hadn't felt much better. Poppy had found the two curled up together, looking through photograph albums full of their missing boy.

"Kind of pathetic actually. Seeing as he's only been gone three days."

"Hey, only three more months." Katie smiled at her gently. She imagined next year Jo would have to tell her the same thing.

"Right. Only three more months."

* * *

Poppy jumped in surprise, a startled squeak leaving her when Jo's coffee mug shattered. The witch barely seemed to notice, her hand still gripping the broken off handle as she glared angrily at Harry's newest letter.

"Mistress!"

Jo blinked in surprise at the admonishing yell, looking between the irritated elf and broken mess of her coffee. Her glasses sat on the end of her nose, nearly falling off when she jerked back in surprise.

"Sorry. I'll take care of it."

Poppy only shook her head and huffed, clearing the mess herself. Jo rubbed at her forehead, leaning back into her chair to stare at the ceiling. The elf could hear her grumbling and cursing, the letter in her hand being crumpled to bits.

"Mistress, what happened?"

Jo sat forward quickly, fingers tapping aggressively against the bar top. She glared at the letter once more before ripping the glasses off of her nose and standing. Poppy barely caught her words as she stormed from the kitchen.

"I should have punched Snape in his fucking nose when I had the chance."

And that was the only explanation Poppy ever received on the matter. All she knew was that an old photograph of Severus Snape had been dug out of the closet, duplicated many times and enlarged. She found their burned and shredded remains after her Mistress' training hour.

X

There had been a great buzz of excitement for Jo and the Schott's when they read Harry's next letter about being made Seeker.

"Has to be the first First year to be allowed in _years_ ," William had exclaimed, pride for his house clear as day in his eyes. "How good is he?"

"Bloody natural, just like his father," Jo had replied, smiling with even greater pride for her boy. Apparently, he had taken her words of encouragement to heart. Except, he was going to teach everyone else how to fly on the quidditch pitch.

Of course, when Professor McGonnagall mailed her about a broom- she'd sent his Nimbus along happily. Poppy even wrapped a bulging plate of treacle tart and other delights to send with it.

After that letter, though, Harry's correspondence slowed drastically. By the thirty first of October, she'd only received one more letter.

It was driving her batshit crazy.

She'd discovered frighteningly fast, that outside of spending time with Harry, she didn't particularly have anything to do. She trained. She meditated. She trained with her wands. Then, nothing. Nothing to do, whatsoever.

Except for her Wednesday AA meeting.

"This is normal," Ted said, the two of them clearing the chairs from the center of the room. "Why when Dora left for school, I moped for nearly a month before Andromeda had grown sick of it. She said 'Ted, I love you dearly, but you're being a right pathetic lump. Either you find yourself something to do, or I'll find it for you'. As you can see, I did just that. Well," he cocked his head to the side, lips turning down as he considered something. "And the flower garden. It's rather therapeutic."

"Right." Jo huffed a bit, her arms crossing defensively. "I know. I damn well know I'm being a pathetic lump, but…Merlin, Ted. I don't have a fucking clue what I should do! Everything is just…just…"

She didn't know how to put it into words. Everything was just _nothing_. She loved reading, but every time she opened a book, her brain would lose interest and she'd end up staring at a wall. She tried spending time with the Schott's, but most days, it quickly became overbearing- too much noise, too many people interacting with her at one time. She tried going for tea with Healer Nyaga like she promised, but walking by the shop made her want to curl up in bed. Even training brought her little satisfaction, just another thing she had to do.

Ted stared at her quietly, gentle smile slipping into a thoughtful frown. He clearly had something to say, but wasn't sure how to.

"What, Ted?"

The gentle smile was back, an easy admonishment to her harsh tone. She sighed, releasing her defensive posture before nodding.

"Have you thought about going back to Therapy? I'm honored that you trust me so much, but I'm afraid to say, I don't always have the answers or even the correct opinions." He could tell that he had caught her off guard. Her face had turned confused, a flash of hurt in her eyes as she recrossed her arms over her chest.

"You think there's something wrong with me." She said it quietly, the hurt in her eyes turning to a wobble in her voice.

"Well," he gave a humorless chuckle, a sad smile forming as he waved around the room. "We wouldn't be here if we were okay."

Jo took a moment to look around, the awful realization that he was right twisting at her stomach. It was a rather plain room, threadbare tan carpet and paneled walls. There were indents in the floor forming the circle she joined every week. _No_ , she supposed, _I wouldn't be here if I was okay_.

"Yeah, alright," she finally sighed out, shoulders drooping in defeat. Defeat of what exactly, she couldn't say. Her own, hopeful opinion of herself? The socially accepted bar that she fell short of? Maybe, just the fact that Ted could see so easily she still needed help. She was just so damn tired of always needing help.

"I'll make an appointment."

"Good. I see her tomorrow for mine. I'll let her know you'll be stopping in."

He didn't have to say that. She knew it was just his way of telling her she wasn't weak or strange for still needing it. Though it had the desired effect. It made her feel a little better.

"Thanks, Ted."

* * *

"A _troll_?"

Professor McGonnagall, her head the only thing visible in the green flames, only nodded her head.

"A fucking troll?" Jo had to be sure. Really, this was just unbelievable. How the hell did a troll get in the school? Unnoticed, at that!

"Language, Miss Delacroix. However inconceivable, there was a troll in Hogwarts. A troll that Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger foolishly decided to seek out. Fortunately for us all, they somehow succeeded in knocking the thing unconscious with its own club." The professor pursed her lips, an anger in her eyes that had Jo unsure if she was about to be thrown into detention with Harry.

"Un-fucking-believable."

Jo grimaced apologetically at the thin lipped reproving frown. She sighed deeply, though, unsure where they went from here. Was Harry alright? Was he in 'expulsion' trouble? Should she go to the school?

"Is Harry- are they all alright?"

"Yes. Fortunately, save a few bumps and scrapes, the three are unscathed." She paused then, her face losing some of its anger as she released a little sigh. "You should be proud. From how they told it; Miss Granger had gone after the troll, and Misters Potter and Weasley had tried to stop her. Those two saved Miss Granger from a certainly unpleasant outcome."

Her lips quirked up, a rather dry smirk forming as she listened. It sounded like Professor McGonnagall didn't believe a word of their story. She didn't quite believe it, either.

"Of course, I had to take five points from Miss Granger for such a foolish decision."

"Of course."

"However, for their bravery and _luck_ , I awarded the boys five points, each." Jo was sure she hadn't imagined the tiniest quirk of the Professor's lips. Bravery was always a prided quality for the woman.

"So, no expulsion? Detention?"

"Not this time."

As clear a warning as ever. If Harry kept this up, she wondered if he could break The Marauders' record high served detentions. She snorted at the thought. Merlin, what was she going to do with that boy?

* * *

 **November**

Harry startled, nearly spilling his pumpkin juice, as a large raven plopped itself on his shoulder. It released an ear splitting caw, attracting much attention from the Great Hall. Wincing, he shared a nervous look with Ron. They knew of only one person who preferred ravens over owls.

Rather stupidly, he now realized, there had been a naive hope that if he didn't tell Jo, she simply wouldn't know about the troll incident. Clearly, he had been wrong.

"Oh, who's that from? I've never seen a raven bring mail before," Hermoine asked, inquisitive as usual.

"Ah…it's my…it's from Jo." The raven cawed again, pecking him sharply in the ear before holding its leg out. Going off of the glare he was receiving, Harry thought the bird found him slow in more ways than one. "Right, here." He nervously held up a piece of sausage, snatching the letter as the sharp beak closed over the meat.

"Well?" Ron peered over his shoulder, eyes widening a bit as they read the letter together. It was rather short and to the point. As expected of Jo.

' _Do you plan on fighting a damn dragon next?_

 _Do me a favor? Try not to get expelled your first year._

 _Love,_

 _Jo '_

"I can't tell if you're in trouble or not," Ron mumbled, taking the letter to examine it closely.

"Not yet." Harry had an uneasy feeling, though. He'd never _really_ been in trouble with Jo before. How was he supposed to know with so little words?

"At least, I don't think?"

The three pushed their heads together, dissecting the twenty three worded letter. In the end, Hermoine decided it was only a warning, and that he'd better take heed of it.

* * *

Poppy snapped her fingers, the pots and pans from this evening's dinner flying themselves into the waiting dish water. When she turned to start clearing the plates, a terribly deep sigh left her. A plate sat at the end, still full of food and charmed to stay warm. The clock on the wall read half past eight. Her Mistress hadn't come to dinner.

The elf slumped into her chair, ears drooping as the great weight inside of her finally pulled her down. Her Mistress had become so withdrawn, remaining in bed for most of her days after training- the length of which had grown steadily shorter. Poppy had worried when Young Harry left that Her Mistress would regress. Her Mistress, she had noticed, wrapped herself almost entirely around the boy. His presence had been the only motivator for the witch. Her motivation to stay sober. Her motivation to grow stronger. Her motivation to merely get out of bed in the morning.

It was problematic.

Unhealthy.

Today had been dreaded for weeks. The puppies had stayed away longer. Her Mistress's friends had been slowly shut out, none of them sure how to handle the anniversary. Even the house had grown still in the days leading up to it. Her Mistress had only let Young Harry in, a day she relied heavily on his support.

Yes, Poppy was very worried.

She perked up suddenly, a tingle in her chest as someone re-entered the World Room. Rushing to greet her Mistress, she stopped short on the stairs. The Ash haired witch stumbled against the banister, a hand to her head to hide the tears Poppy could clearly hear. Glassy blue eyes peeked through the fingers, brimming with despair, grief, anger; too many horribly emotions for one person to feel at once.

"Po-Poppy…get Katie."


	24. Chapter 24 Succor

**I am horrified by how long this chapter took to finish. The deepest and sincerest apology. I really hit a wall with this one, that seems to happen every couple chapters. It's _really_ frustrating. Thank you, all of you, for your patience. And thank you for the reviews, favorites, follows; you know, my bright moments while stuck in the well of writer's block. Y'all are the true MVPs.**

 **As always,**

 **Enjoy**

 **~GhostDoor**

* * *

 _ **"No person, trying to take responsibility for her or his own identity, should have to be so alone. There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep, and still be counted as**_ **warriors."-Adrienne Rich, Sources**

* * *

 **Chapter 24**

 **Succor**

 **1991-1992**

* * *

The second Katie stepped into her room, Jo was overcome with immense guilt. She'd obviously been in the bath when Poppy had fetched her, in fact, there were still a few bubbles caught in her dripping wet hair. Merlin, she couldn't be doing this to her friend. The properly functioning adult had a family at home to worry about. Jo should have sent Poppy for someone else, but she'd panicked. Katie had been the only one to come to mind.

"Oh, Jo…what happened?" Katie flopped onto the bed, hands instantly reaching out to touch her in someway.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, averting her eyes as shame filled her. "I shouldn't have called on you. I-I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm alright, now. You shoul-"

"Don't even finish that sentence, you pillock. You called me, I'm here. Now tell me what I can do." The blonde frowned when her friend refused to answer. Jo kept her eyes firmly on the ceiling, but she couldn't keep her face from crumpling under the storm inside of her.

"I…I need you to stop me from drinking. I-" She quickly brought her hands up to cover her stinging eyes, swallowing thickly as something tried to work its way back up. "I'm so sorry."

Katie's heart absolutely broke at the whisper, at the state her friend had been reduced to. And she felt so terrible for the thinking that this had been expected. Jo had done a truly amazing job at staying sober, _but_ Katie had suspected something would happen once Harry had left. Even Ted had reached out last Wednesday when Jo had missed their weekly meeting.

So yes, this was unfortunately not unexpected. Her and William had been waiting on pins and needles all day for Poppy to contact them.

"Have you already?," Katie asked gently, running a comforting hand over Jo's arm. Jo audibly sobbed, gasping hard with a jerky nod.

"I f-fucked up. I went in…I went to the Little Lamb. Fuck, I'm so stupid." She tried to wipe the tears away, but they just wouldn't stop coming. Gasping, she rolled onto her side and curled in on herself. She felt like she was breaking, just shattering under the absolute anger and hatred and _shame_ she felt for herself. "So fucking stupid," she rasped, fingers clenching harshly at the hair falling over her face.

"You're not stupid, Jo. You're still healing." Katie sighed, laying down on the bed to hold her friend in the tightest embrace she could muster. "You're still _learning_ how to heal, and I'm sorry to say, sometimes that means you'll make a bad choice. But you know what happens after?"

Jo only hiccoughed, curling in on herself even more. Katie was being too kind to her. She didn't fucking deserve it.

"Next time, you'll have learned not to make that decision again. Every day, from this point on, you'll know what not to do. And I think that you'll make the right choice."

"...what if I don't?"

"You will. I believe in you, and I'll keep believing until the time comes that you do too."

Jo only cried harder. Tomorrow was to be three years sober. What would Ted think? Merlin, he's going to be so disappointed.

What will Harry think?

At that thought, she really, truly, broke. Katie tried to console her, to talk to her like she wasn't living breathing trash, but she only shook her head fiercely. Her friend fell silent, arms tightening as she held Jo together.

And she would, all night, tomorrow morning, tomorrow night, and the next. She would hold Jo together until her friend could do it on her own again.

* * *

Jo didn't know what to expect when she stepped into that plain, panel walled room on Wednesday night. When she sat in the chair, head bowed and fingers nervously twisting, her heart pounded in her ears. She was sure they all knew, that they could see her failure. When it came time for her to speak, she backed out like the coward she was. Ted only laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in comfort as the next person started to speak. With trembling fingers, she reached up to grip his hand tightly. She didn't let go until the end of the meeting.

"If I may." Ted smiled gently at their small group, rising to stand and stop them from dispersing. "I feel as if it's been too long since I last said this, but I want you all to know how _proud_ I am. Immensely proud. This journey that we have embarked on is not easy. It's a path covered in branches and rocks and holes in the road. Every day, we have to face an obstacle most outside of this room don't understand. And even though all of us have stumbled or fallen, the thing that truly matters is that we get back up. That tomorrow, when we come across another branch in the road, we've learned to step around it."

Jo lifted her head for the first time that night. She and everyone else stared at Ted, faces mixed with gratitude and dissatisfaction in their own failures.

"Yes, I'm proud. And I'm grateful, so very grateful, that all of you have joined me on this road. That, I believe, may be the hardest part." He nodded then, solemn in a way, but still smiling kindly. "When we leave tonight, I want us all to think about our own personal roads. Think about the branches and holes that have caught us before. Then I want you to tell yourself 'Thank you'. Thank yourself for not giving up. Thank yourself for waking up the next day, ready to continue our journey."

With that, the meeting was finally over. When everyone had disappeared through the door, Jo found herself in another tight embrace. Ted crushed her for only a moment, releasing her with an encouraging smile.

"I'm so damn proud of you."

She wanted to ask him why. She wanted to ask him why he was being so kind to her. She wanted to ask how he could even stand the sight of her.

"You came back. That's the only thing that matters, Jo."

* * *

Harry had been in a fairly pleasant mood since winning his first ever quidditch match. However, it might also have to do with the dwindling days until Christmas holiday. There had been a few mornings he'd woken, still smelling the scent of a fresh pine tree and Poppy's Christmas dinner from his dreams.

The mystery of the three-headed dog and Nicholas Flamel had become something of an excitement for him and his friends. Even if he and Ron had to sit in the library. He liked to imagine Abigail would be very interested, her favorite books being murder mysteries. He also couldn't help but think she'd be much better at putting the clues together. So far, he and Ron were having a tough go of keeping up with Hermione's big brain.

"You don't suppose Jo would know about this Nicholas Flamel fellow?," Ron had asked, practically laying on top of the book Hermione had instructed him to read.

"I don't know. I could ask." Harry shrugged, eyes tired and blurring as he tried to read another line jammed full of big and boring words.

"You don't think she'll find it a weird question?" Hermione bit at her lip, the only one who knew next to nothing about this Jo woman. "What will you tell her you need the information for?"

"I don't think I'll need to give much of a reason. She's always just answered my questions, especially about magic."

So it was decided, Harry would write Jo about this Nicholas Flamel, and they would hopefully have their answer by the end of the week.

That was the plan, at least, until the next morning.

Ron and Hermione were unsure as to what exactly had upset Harry. One minute, they had been eating while puzzling over a tricky question for their Transfiguration homework, when a speckled brown owl had dropped a letter on Harry's breakfast. The writing was clearly that of a child, big looping letters written in what looked like blue marker. Harry had smiled at the writing, but it had quickly dimmed as he read. Then, quite suddenly, he had gathered his things and ran from the Great Hall with the most panicked expression.

Of course, Ron and Hermione had followed him. Ron took the stairs to the boy's dorm two at a time, yelling Harry's name between gasps. His friend never responded, too busy, he found, rifling through his chest for something.

"Where is it…I know I brought it…shit…"

"Mate, what's going on?"

Harry didn't respond, though. He had found what he had been searching for. From the bottom of his trunk, he pulled a small gold token on a chain. Engraved on its surface: _5 Days._

Anger, that was the first emotion to hit him, and hit him it did. Ron was surprised by the ferocious look on Harry's face- teeth clenched and eyebrows creasing together. He suddenly threw the token, as hard as he could possibly manage, across the room. It smacked against the wall before bouncing once-twice-three times along the floor and under Dean Thomas' bed.

Hermione, unsure and nervous, had finally braved the stairs to the boy's dorm. When she quietly pushed the door open, it was just in time to watch as Harry fell to his knees with a groan. He'd hidden his head in his hands, but his friends could tell by the shaking of his shoulders that he had begun to cry.

"Harry," Hermione called gently, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. "What's happened?"

Harry didn't know what to say. How could he tell them? How could they ever understand? He only shook his head before sighing deeply and sitting straight.

"Harry?"

"It's fine. I don't think we can ask Jo about Flamel, though. She…she's really sick, right now." With another sigh, he finally got back to his feet and stomped across the room. Dropping to his knees, he reached under Dean's bed to find the little token. When he finally looked at his friends, it was to only find them both staring at him with open concern. "Sorry, guys."

Even though Ron and Hermione were his friends, his best friends, there was something inside of him that balked greatly at revealing Jo's alcoholism. Especially her failure. Later that day, once the two were busy with a potion essay, he snuck to the owlery to send a letter to Jo.

They wouldn't learn, for some time, what exactly had happened or what that letter had read. All Ron and Hermione knew was that Harry's good mood and anticipation for Christmas had vanished. And from that day on, a small gold token had been hung on the strap of his messenger bag.

* * *

Jo sighed, frowning deeply into her hand as she read the short letter for the fifteenth time. It had shocked her the first time. Pissed her off the second. Now, she was just sad. Resignation had taken over, acknowledging this was probably for the best.

"Poppy."

The elf appeared instantly, ears wrapped in a scarf with a feather duster in hand. Noticing the letter first, an excited smile lit up the elf's face. However, when Jo only sighed, turning to face Poppy with that deep frown, the smile melted away.

"Harry's not coming for Christmas." Jo snorted then, a bitter smile pulling at her lips. "It's better this way, honestly. I'm planning on leaving for a while. This just means I can head out earlier than expected."

"And where will Mistress be going?" Poppy questioned sharply.

"India, I think. I just…need some time. I need a reset, Poppy."

"It be Christmas."

The elf's grey eyes had gone shiny, an anxiousness filling her at the thought of being left here. Alone for another Christmas.

"Poppy," she sighed the name, a hand rubbing at her forehead in exasperation. "It's not Christmas without Harry. You can come with me. We'll-"

"No. Poppy will stay here. In case Young Harry be changing his mind."

They both knew that wouldn't happen. He was a stubborn boy, and he was hurt and disappointed. He needed time.

"Alright." Jo sighed again, leaving the letter where it lay to go and start packing. She needed out of this house.

Sniffling, Poppy gingerly picked up the letter and read the short message.

' _I think it would be best if I stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas. Madison told_

 _Me what happened. (_ I don't think)

 _(You promised you wouldn't)_

 _(Why would)_

 _I don't want to ruin the holidays with fighting._

 _Write me when you're better again._

 _Love,_

 _Harry_

 _I hope you're okay '_

Poppy placed the letter back down gently. There were many emotions churning inside of her. Many thoughts she felt guilty for even thinking. In the end, she only acknowledged one of each.

She was sad, so very sad. There had been many years that she had spent Christmas alone, wondering when her family would come back. The elf thrived on her family's happiness. When it was gone, Poppy had no purpose.

And the only thought, no matter how un-elf-like, was that her Mistress and Young Harry were selfish. Incredibly and terribly selfish. They should be helping each other, coming together and celebrating the family they had created. How short-sighted of them both to see her Mistress' struggle as a reason to separate from one another.

Seeing as neither her Mistress or Young Harry would be home for the holidays, there was little reason for Poppy to continue cleaning the house. In fact, seeing as her Mistress was so intent on running away, the elf found little reason to not curl up in bed and sleep away her terrible thoughts and feelings.

* * *

"I do feel so sorry," Draco Malfoy drawled, eyeing Harry from his potion's bench, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. How sad it is to not be wanted at home."

Harry only rolled his eyes, trying to read the next step in the instructions through the steam and smoke. He'd really had quite enough of Draco Malfoy's nasty attitude. The boy was the noisiest and nosiest bully he'd ever met, including Dudley. However, after the catastrophic events of that 'Wizards Duel', Harry had taken to ignoring Draco Malfoy and his rude comments.

Honestly, after seeing his father in action, Harry had quite the peek into how a boy like Draco had lived before Hogwarts. His words and actions weren't very surprising.

Too soon, Harry and Ron were saying farewell to Hermione for the holiday, who was using the time to remind them to continue searching for Nicholas Flamel.

"Perhaps you should send Jo a letter? I'm sure she could answer whether she does or doesn't know who it is," Hermione suggested for possibly the hundredth time, her eyes narrowed suspiciously when Harry only shrugged.

"Haven't heard from her. I'm assuming she's still sick." Her eyes narrowed on him even more when he scowled fiercely in return.

"Maybe you could ask your parents if they know. It'd be safe to ask them," Ron interrupted, ignorant to the stare down between his two best friends.

"Yes," Hermione answered quite sharply, finally removing her skeptical eyes from Harry. "Very safe, as they're both dentists."*

* * *

Daljeet had welcomed her, smiling brightly and arms thrown wide to embrace her tightly. Jo relaxed into the hug, a lightness filling her at the sight of the grand city and its sprawling wall. He led her through the city, an excited skip in his step as he showed off their newly revamped training grounds and school house. Children and teenagers were underfoot nearly everywhere they went, rambunctious as ever with the Winter Solstice quickly approaching.

"Ah, here we are. Rustam was so surprised to hear you would be joining us for the solstice. Very happy." Funny, she thought he looked perplexed by her appearance. "Well, Daljeet has much to do. Please, stop by the temple soon. We shall go on our morning hike, yes?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan."

Toeing off her boots and kicking them to the side, Jo slowly entered the rock pit. The dirt and pebbles beneath her feet felt good, much better than the magically created desert back home. This dirt had a pulse, a thriving current flowing through it from deep within the earth.

Rustam watched her approach, a frown chiseled into his craggly gruff face.

"What are you doing here?"

She'd planned quite a few different explanations before leaving, but, now, none of them felt right to say. All the words simply left her brain. There was an emptiness inside of her, this hole right in the center of her chest that had torn open after ordering that glass of whiskey. In front of Rustam and his confused frown, the vulnerability festering inside that hole charged forward.

"I…" She snorted, shrugging once before lifting her eyes to frown at the sky. "I'm running away, I suppose."

He grunted, leisurely sliding down from his boulder. Slow as ever, he stomped towards her. When he stopped in front of her, he frowned fiercely and grumbled about her stupidity, but he looked at her with understanding. He reached one dusty large hand to give her a heavy thump on the bicep, nodding once before turning away.

"Come on, then. Hopefully, you've improved since the last time I saw you."

They spent hours in the pit, boulders and rock columns exploding from the earth in deafening displays. Some children and passing adults were drawn in by the noise, perching themselves on the walls to watch as Rustam and the foreigner sparred one another. They gasped, 'ooh'-ing and 'ahh'-ing as the rare display steadily escalated into an earth shaking disaster zone. Of course, Rustam, being a true master of his identity, barely broke a sweat as he beat the woman into exhaustion. Although, the few masters in the assembled crowd murmured among one another- the foreigner lasted much longer than they had anticipated.

Sweat soaked every inch of her, a soreness in her muscles that left her shaking like a newborn hippogriff. Jo dropped to the ground, gasping her forfeit as she collapsed onto her back with heaving breaths. Merlin, she hadn't felt this worn out in ages.

There was a great amount of chatter and chuckles from their dispersing audience. She paid them little mind, closing her eyes to try and catch her breath beneath the unforgiving sun. Rustam's heavy footfalls approached her, the grating and grinding of rock returning to its home vibrating the ground beneath her. He huffed a chuckle at her, covered head to toe in dirt and mud as she just laid on the ground. Nudging her with his foot, he offered a hand up. She lit up at the sight of a water canteen, thanking him breathlessly as she snatched it from him.

"So?" Her blue eyes were little beacons shining through all that dirt and grime. A tiny little smirk quirking her lips when he slumped beside her on the ground. "How did I do? Any better?"

"Yeah, you did alright." He rolled his eyes when she smiled brightly at that. "But you've got something else to do, now."

"Hm?"

"Go home, little girl. Go home to your family." That bright smile dimmed, a sad little twist of her lips taking its place. "But you listen to me. Everyone wants to run away- everyone. We all fuck things up, not sure what to do to fix it. But-"

"Oy," she yelped, startled when he punched her in the chest. "What the fuck?"

"Mountains don't run away. That's what we are, we're mountains. We stand right we are, and we weather the storm. So, now you go home, and you weather the storm. When you feel like running, you look right there-" he jabbed a finger, right in the spot he had hit her. "-you find that mountain inside you, and you stand your ground. No matter how bad, no storm can take down a mountain."

She rubbed at the sore spot on her chest, right where that empty hole had opened up. Was that what was supposed to be there, her mountain? She couldn't help but snort a little laugh. How ridiculous was this?

"Y'know, I don't think I've ever heard you say so much in one go."

Rustam grunted, tossing a pebble at her with a light glare.

"That was supposed to be inspirational. Don't ruin it, little girl."

"Right, my apologies." She chuckled again, sighing at the end before smiling lightly at the man. "It was a good speech. I'll have to write it down when I get home."

 **X**

It was nearing four in the morning when she arrived home. Sluggish and half-asleep, the witch drug herself down the hallway with great effort. She stopped at the bedroom doorway closest to her own. Bright mismatched flowers of yellow, purple, and pink blocked her view of the inside.

"Poppy," she whispered the name, unsure if her return had awaken the elf. "I'm sorry for leaving. You're as much my family as Harry, and I want to spend Christmas with you. You deserve that, at the very least." She paused, waiting for some indication that the elf was listening. There was no response, though. Inhaling deeply, she pushed herself away from the doorway and stumbled the rest of the way to her own bedroom.

Inside the room hidden by flowers of yellow, purple, and pink; Poppy's ears twitched slightly, a relieved smile blooming across her face as the sounds of tired dogs whining happily echoed from down the hall.

* * *

' _Harry,_

 _I know you're hurt and disappointed and angry; all of which are understandable and completely acceptable reactions to my_ _failure relapse. I don't know how to apologize for it. Saying I'm sorry seems like an empty gesture. I suppose it would be a decent start, though._

 _I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry. There's no reason or explanation because it is unreasonable and unexplainable. I 'lost my footing', as to quote Ted._

 _I want to make you a new promise. I'm sure you're damn tired of my promises by now, but think on this one._

 _I promise, from here on out, I'm going to stay sober. I promise that next time I stumble, I'll instead write you a letter. I'll remind myself, over and over, that I have a promise to keep for more than just myself._

 _Poppy and I miss you like crazy, as does Taffy. Poor girl's been in a right mood since you left, busy keeping all the other dogs in line. All of us hope you're having a great time at Hogwarts, and, if you're up for it, we'd like to come and watch you play quidditch at your next match. Tell Ron and Hagrid and Harm-Herm screw it, I don't know how to spell her name, but your other friend; that we all say hello and Happy Christmas._

 _Poppy's warning you not to eat all of your treats in one go._

 _And to brush your teeth._

 _Happy Christmas!_

 _Love,_

 _Jo, Poppy and Taffy'_

Harry re-read the letter, then read it again. A smile tugged at his lips, brightening when he finished it for the fourth time. Jo was feeling better.

And she wanted to come see him!

He quickly tore into the packages it had come with. Poppy had sent along chocolate pastries, homemade candies, and, of course, treacle tart. As per usual of the elf, she had also included a new set of pajamas and a winter cloak. The Schott's had sent along a new quill and ink set, the feather trimmed to look like a broom.

And from Jo, a new scroll on water training and a set of goggles, charmed to repel water and dirt for quidditch. Carefully wrapped inside a bit of cloth, a picture of her, Poppy and Taffy holding up a 'Go Gryffindor!' sign, the three sat in front of a tiny decorated Christmas tree. Finally, at the very bottom, a new gold token. He ran a finger over the engraving, smiling gently at the tiny '30 days' engraved on it. His other fingers caught on grooves on its back. Confused, he flipped it over to find another engraving.

'Promise In Tact: 30 days'

"Blimey, look at this!" Harry looked up, laughter bubbling instantly at the state of Ron's face. Chocolate covered him from his nose to his chin, a dark brown melted beard the only evidence of the treats Poppy had sent the redhead boy. "She really didn't have to-"

Harry finally noticed the new set of winter robes and a cloak Ron was holding. Jo had pinned a note to it, which Harry read out loud while Ron tried the new clothing on.

" 'Sorry, I know it's rather boring, but Poppy insisted you looked much too tall for your current robes. Promise we'll send something exciting for your Birthday. Happy Christmas, Ron!'. Well, what's wrong with that?" Harry tilted his head, inspecting the better fitting cloak once his friend had fastened it.

"Well, they're bloody expensive, aren't they?"

"I don't think that's what Jo was thinking about, well Poppy actually. She's peculiar that way, drives her mad when I grow too big for my clothes. Always insists on fixing the length of my pants the second my ankles show." Harry chuckled at that, hoping Ron wasn't insulted by the gift. He thought it was rather perceptive of the elf, considering she'd only seen the boy in his current robes once. Noticing an arrow in the corner of the note, he flipped it over to read the P.S. "Oh look at that, it's hemmed up. Jo wrote there's at least five more inches, so it'll be good for an extra year or two."

"Well…I suppose there's nothing I can do about that." He stood up a little straighter, examining the new robes and cloak in the mirror with a bit more confidence. "Bloody hell, these fit perfect."

"I'll have to let Poppy know you like them."

"Like them? I love them!"

* * *

"Mum?"

He wasn't sure why he had even asked. Even without all the pictures, he would have known the moment he laid eyes on the beautiful red headed woman.

"Dad?" Hazel eyes sparkled happily, messy black hair bouncing as he nodded eagerly.

"Jo."

She stood to the side, leaving Lily and James Potter the center to stand on either side of Harry. Her blue eyes softened, a lightness to them he'd only seen in pictures. She smiled easily, glancing over her shoulder with a nod. Slowly, more and more people began to appear in the mirror. Each person shared something in common with Harry: green eyes, dark messy hair, cheek bones and noses, or even his knobbly knees. Everyone smiled at him, nodding or waving happily at the sight of him.

His sad little smile reflected back at him, the bittersweet recognition of what the mirror was showing him. This was his family, these were the faces of all those that had come before him. A great appreciation for magic filled him. Surely, without it, he'd never have the chance to see all of these faces together. He stared at them hungrily for hours, trying desperately to memorize them all.

"I'll come back," he promised, voice groggy and bum numb from how long he'd sat there, just staring at this amazing magic mirror. "I'll see you again."

"See?" Harry whispered, smiling already at the sight of them all.

"I can't see anything." Ron turned his head this way and that, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when all he could see was Harry.

"Look! Look at them all…there are loads of them. Jo's here too, right there next to my mum…."

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry moved back, Ron taking his place. Instantly, his family disappeared, leaving only Ron in his paisley pajamas.

"Look at me!"

"Can you see your family all around you?"

"No-I'm alone- but I'm different- I look older- and I'm head boy!"

" _What?_ "

"I am- I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup- I'm Quidditch captain, too!"

It was then that Harry realized, the mirror didn't show your family. It showed something much different to whoever stood in front of it. The person's secret wish or dreams.

Of course, the boys scuffled over looking in the mirror, both wishing to see their greatest dreams come true. However, a sudden noise from the corridor put an end to that. They disappeared beneath the invisibility cloak, just in time to avoid Mrs. Norris catching sight of them.

Even with the realization that the mirror only showed dreams, Harry still ventured back to it for three more nights. On the third, the mysterious Headmaster Dumbledore put an end to it.

"Can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" He had asked, eyes sparkling and voice gentle.

"Your dreams," Harry had answered, almost sadly.

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them all standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of them all. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

And that had been that. Dumbledore had the mirror moved the next day, ending Harry's nightly excursions. He wasn't sure if he was upset about it or not.

* * *

Jo, Poppy and Taffy squished together, surrounded on all sides by screaming and excited children. It felt a bit strange, standing in the Gryffindor stands. Especially since her house was the opposing team in today's Quidditch match.

"Jo!"

She craned her neck at the call, finding Ron Weasley waving madly from a few benches down. Sighing, she pushed the three of them through the crazed children, nearly tripping over a huddle of girls, who were whispering excitedly about someone called 'Wood'.

"Merlin," she gasped, collapsing gratefully in the seats Ron had saved next to him. "I forgot how hellish this was."

"Poppy thinks it all be very exciting, Mistress. Poppy's never been to a quidditch match before." Ron looked right horrified at the statement, instantly launching into an explanation of the sport. He had developed a soft spot for the elf after her Christmas gift, having Harry offer her exclusive hello's from him in letters home. Poppy, who in fact knew a great deal about quidditch, listened patiently while nodding along with a bright smile.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. You must be Josephine Delacroix, Harry's guardian. He talks about you so much, I feel as if I already know you. Of course, I came across your surname while reading, and I've discovered a great deal about your family. Did you know, in 1222, Olivette Delacroix discovered that volcanic ash, when cured correctly, could be used as a means for travel. Your family helped discover _floo_ powder." Jo blinked, unconsciously leaning away from the little girl who talked much too quickly to follow.

"Is that right?"

"Of course, you know that already. It was so intriguing, reading about how much your family had influenced the magical society. Why, you're the oldest known family in Britain!"

"...right."

"Blimey, Hermione, you don't have to tell her facts about her own family. Why don't you ask her how she is, first?" Ron stared at the girl with clear exasperation, to which she snapped her mouth shut, cheeks dusting pink in embarrassment at being called out.

"It's alright," Jo offered awkwardly, nodding at the girl with a little smile. "I don't mind. Not like I remember every little thing my great-whatever did in 1222."

"W-well," she smiled shyly, head ducking to hide behind her mane of hair. "How are you? Harry told us you were sick for quite some time in December."

"Oh, ehm," the ash haired witch grimaced, wrinkling her nose at the thought that Harry had to make up a story for her. "I'm much better now. Thanks."

Conversation continued around her after that, although Hermione threw her many curious looks when she thought Jo wasn't looking. Thankfully, the match began quickly after that, the two Gryffindors making commentary about Snape and his surprise referee position.

"Look- they're off. Ouch!"

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Ron scowled fiercely, turning away from the Malfoy boy with a huff to watch the game.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you Weasley?"

Ron, however, was not the one to take Draco Malfoy up on his offer.

"Ten galleons he stays on his broom the entire game and catches the snitch. Gryffindor victory." Jo leaned back, cocking an eyebrow when Draco Malfoy recoiled at the sight of her. Clearly, he hadn't noticed the adult sitting among the horde of children when he had sauntered over.

"L-Lady Delacroix, I hadn't known you would be attending today." His slip of surprise was quickly smoothed into a nod of acknowledgment, a polite smile replacing his previous sneer.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't make it to the first match, but I'm sure to be here for many more in the future. Harry is my kid, after all."

"Right, of course." He looked a bit constipated at that. "Well, we best return to our own section. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Lady Delacroix."

"Right. Don't forget about my ten galleons," Jo called out, a rather Malfoy-esque smirk of her own tilting at her lips. Ron and Hermione watched, positively giddy, as Malfoy turned bright pink, scrambling away quickly with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

"That was-"

"Brilliant!"

Jo only shrugged, amused by the their delighted expressions and Poppy's disapproving clucking.

"Mistress should not be gambling with little ones."

Without Malfoy there, the group returned their attention to the quidditch pitch- just in time to watch as Harry dropped into a spectacular dive. Jo and Ron leaned forward excitedly, holding their breath as Hermione and Poppy gasped in fear. He sped through the air, nearly a blur as he approached Snape. The substitute referee turned, face contorting in angry shock when the seeker rushed past him. Harry pulled out of his dive, right arm lifting high above his head as a great victorious smile spread across his lips.

Then, cheers- an explosion of whooping and whistling, stamping feet and clapping hands- as the Gryffindor section turned to chaotic celebration. As one, the entire section flooded from the stands, intent on returning to the castle as quickly as possible. There was a celebration to be had!

Jo leaned back in the stands, offering a little wave to Ron and Hermione as they were swept away with the crowd. Poppy and Taffy were very nearly vibrating with left over excitement, the air around them still a buzz with the echoing cheers of the Gryffindors.

"We'll head down in a bit. Let all the kids clear out, first. It'll be easier to find Harry, then."

However, when they exited the stadium, Harry was nowhere to be found. The last one out of the locker room was the boy who had played keeper. He looked surprised by their asking after Harry, pointing them towards the castle with a shrug.

"Everyone's gone up already. He's probably half way to the castle, by now."

So the two humans, one elf, and a dog walked together. Jo grit her teeth, arm nearly dislocated as Taffy harshly pulled on her lead, whining and barking in the direction of the forbidden forest.

"C'mon, Harry's this way. We don't want to go in there." She tugged the insistent dog back, but Taffy leaped towards the dark woods again, claws gouging the dirt as she strained heavily on the lead. Sighing, she waved Poppy and the boy on. "I'm gonna walk her a bit."

Taffy tugged and pulled the entire time, not once relenting even as they circled the entirety of Hogwarts. Shaking her head, Jo decided it was time to go in, whether the dog agreed or not. With a flick and swish, she levitated the whining dog behind her into the castle. Just in time, it seems, to catch Harry rushing up the stairs.

"Harry!"

The boy turned quickly, eyes widening even further at the sight of her.

"Jo!"

She chuckled, a smile pulling at her lips when he rushed back down the stairs and into her arms. Their hug was tight, the both of them just happy to see the other. When they finally pulled apart, Jo released Taffy back to the ground. Harry nearly collapsing under the force of the dog rushing him.

"Oh, I missed you too. So so much. Have you been a good girl?" She only covered the boy in slobbery kisses, wiggling so hard she fell over. Which was just as good, seeing as it got her lots of belly rubs from her boy.

"Poppy," Jo called the elf, knowing she would be quite testy if she were to be left out of their little reunion. The house elf appeared beside her, squealing at the sight of Harry before throwing herself on him as well. He laughed, elf and dog jumping all over him in maximum excitement.

"Young Harry, you's be wonderful at Quidditch! Poppy was so scared when you flew so fast, but Young Harry be an excellent flier." Poppy praised him, patting his hair and righting his glasses while he blushed. "Poppy be so excited for the next match. Young Ron promised to bring Poppy a Gryffindor flag to wave!"

Too soon, Jo had to interrupt with a reminder of the time. The three of them looked at her with such disappointment.

"But I've only just seen you! Can't you stay longer?"

"Well, we would have had more time, but we couldn't find you. That, and Taffy absolutely refused to come in the castle after the match. Tried to drag me right into the damn forest." Taffy only raised her nose, completely unrepentant of her actions. The dog knew what she was doing, her boy had been in there.

Harry suddenly looked quite serious then, the mention of the forest reminding him of what he had seen take place between Professor Quirrell and Snape.

"Jo, I've got to tell you something."

But, of course, just as she leaned down, frowning in concern by his severe tone; Professor Snape swept into the Entrance Hall. He sneered at the sight of the family, approaching them with a great wave of his cloak.

"Miss Delacroix, it is well past visiting hours. You and…your family are only permitted on the grounds for the match and a half hour after. The match ended over an hour ago." His dark eyes drifted over Jo's shoulder, darkening at the sight of Harry's glare. "Or does Mr. Potter's status lead you to believe these stipulations do not apply?"

Jo quirked an eyebrow at the man, frowning at his obvious dislike for her boy.

"I see you're as pleasant as ever. We're leaving, don't worry." Cocking her head, she stepped between him and Harry when he refused to stop glaring at her kid. "Enough, Snape. It's a wonder you even have a job if this is how you treat children."

"Please, Delacroix, refrain from sharing your unnecessary opinion on matters you know nothing about."

"Oh?" Glancing at Harry, she found his glare at the Professor had turned fiery. "Perhaps, Professor," she stepped closer to the man, earning herself another sneer. She leaned in close, the bitter scents of potion ingredients invading her nose as she spoke quietly. "You should learn how to differentiate between a dead man and his son."

His eyes turned glacial, glare finally focusing on her and her alone. She only stared, no smirk or scowl. Her eyes were hard, though, sapphires daring the man to rebuke her. Daring him to see past his long dead grudges and rivalries.

Perhaps, that was asking too much.

Snape only sneered once more, turning on his heel with a final warning.

"Back to your common room, Potter. Or else ten points from Gryffindor."

Jo watched him go, exhaling sharply through her nose at the pure nastiness he seemed to ooze. When she turned back to Harry, she found him still glaring after his professor.

"Hey, don't mind him too much. Trust me when I say, he has always been this way. Shitty inside and out." Harry only nodded, mumbling something under his breath as his face cleared. "Well, I guess this is goodnight, then. Don't want to lose you any house points."

"Yeah, I suppose." Harry sighed, leaning down to hug Poppy and Taffy before approaching Jo. "I'll write you."

"And I'll write you." She buried her nose into his hair, hugging him tightly. He smiled sadly when she dropped a kiss on his forehead, bumping her head against his lightly after. "I love you."

"I love you too." He reluctantly waved to them all, slowly returning to the stairs as they turned for the door. Once they were out of sight, he took the remaining stairs two-at-a-time. He had to find Ron and Hermione. He had to tell them about Quirrell and Snape.

"Harry, where have you been? You're family was looking all over for you!," Hermione squeaked, desperately hoping he hadn't completely missed them.

"We won! You won! We won!" Ron thumped him on the back excitedly, face flushed and the happiest Harry had seen the boy all year. "Everyone's waiting, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," Harry nearly snapped, craning his neck to find a quiet place, but the room was packed and abuzz with celebration. "Come on, let's find an empty room. Wait 'til you hear this…"

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them. Then, he told them what he had seen and heard.

"So," Hermione started, eyes wide and voice high in alarm. "You mean the Stone is only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?"

"It'll be gone by next week," Ron groaned, head falling back to hang despondently.

"Listen, I think it's time I told Jo about all of his Philosopher's Stone mess. She'd believe us." Harry pleaded with the two, but was shocked when Hermione bit her lip in uncertainty and Ron shuffled his feet.

"Harry, do you really think that's the best idea?"

"Of course I do!" Harry stared at them, confused by their reluctance.

"Listen, Mate…Percy told me- about Jo's 'sickness' I mean. My mum told him about what happened in November, wanted him to keep an eye on you. She was right upset about it, about you-" Ron stared at him with pity, embarrassed _for_ Harry.

"What does that have to do with the Stone and Snape?" Harry's question came out harshly, voice cold and angry. How dare Ron talk about it as if he understood. He didn't know anything about it or Jo.

"Harry," Hermione stepped forward, voice gentle. "Shouldn't you be worried about upsetting her too much? My primary school had an assembly on this, and I found some reading on it; stress isn't good for someone in recovery."

The black haired boy found that Hermione's reasoning was almost too logical. His shoulders slowly fell back down, a slump of defeat curving at his back.

"I don't like this. I don't like keeping secrets from Jo." He tried once more, although it was feeble even to his own ears.

Hermione and Ron shared another look.

"We'll tell her, alright? After we tell Dumbledore. He'll know what to do."

* * *

In the three years since Jo had last been here, the receptionist Marjorine Kernes had since been replaced. Cindy Pole, a nearly seventy year old witch with squared glasses and a striped neckerchief, now held the position. She had an airy smile and soft brown eyes which glazed in a way that left Jo unsure if the woman was actually speaking to her.

"-Then my neighbor, Willy Burplan- Do you know the Burplans? They're a funny lot, breed some rare breed of vampire rabbits, they do- Why Willy came round and, wouldn't you know it, he'd found my broom hopping through his garden. I hadn't a clue that brooms could do such a thing on their own-"

Jo could only stare, having stopped responding in any way some minutes ago. However, Miss Pole seemed just fine as long as there was someone to speak at. Jo also had the suspicion that Miss Pole was, well, perhaps her garden was lacking some major flowers. Brooms certainly did not hop away of their own volition.

"-And of course my daughter, Pammy- Do you know Pamila Barle, although I suppose it would be Herbert, now- she's my oldest, married three times- She told me to just toss the old thing. She's always been that way, quick to throw away and buy new. Don't know where she got it from, her father and I were always-"

There was a cough, bringing Jo's strangely fascinating entertainment to an abrupt end. Beth stood in the door, face a tad too stiff to truly exude patience.

"Mrs. Pole, I've been paging you for nearly five minutes. Miss Delacroix's appointment was to start at three."

"Oh, terribly sorry, ma'am. It seems I was too caught up in our conversation." She turned back to the ash haired witch, simpering smile and glazed eyes staring right through the woman. "It was so good to meet you. We'll continue next time, dear."

"Sounds like a date, Cindy." Jo tried not to chuckle, nearly failing when the therapist loudly sighed. Mrs. Pole waved her off, already mumbling to herself as the door shut. "She's amazing. Truly."

"She's…." Beth scrunched her nose, trying and failing miserably to restrain her irritation. "Mrs. Pole was the most qualified candidate for the job." Actually, Mrs. Pole was the only applicant for the job. Beth had had quite a time after Marjorine Kernes left, the position remaining empty for nearly three months. Some days, she wished she had just left it that way.

Inhaling deeply, Beth pushed away all thoughts of the receptionist with the exhale.

"Josephine, it's good to see you again. I daresay, we have quite a bit to catch up on." She offered the woman a smile, exuding calm and welcome as she was meant to.

"I daresay we do."

Beth blinked in surprise. The woman across from her had a tiny smile on her face, eyes crinkling with traces of amusement. She sat easily in the chair, chin in hand while her other arm relaxed on the armrest, fingers shockingly still. This was a new picture compared to the woman who had grunted and frowned relentlessly during their previous encounters.

"Then, the room is yours. Tell me all about the last couple of years, Josephine."

* * *

Through the months of February and March, Jo kept weekly appointments with Bethany Wilks. Unlike before, perhaps because she had already tried before, talking came much easier for the witch. Very quickly, they had delved into the many events of Jo's past and the nightmares they had created.

They discussed Cole and Lucy exclusively for a while; how she and Cole met, the uncertainty and fear of having a child so young, the even greater fear of having a child in the beginnings of a war, raising that child through the unpredictability and violence of said war, the strain it all had on the fairly new couple, and of course, their untimely and horrible deaths.

The therapist had taken mercy on her after that session, instead turning their talks to her actual participation during the war. Why had she decided to fight? What was the war like, and how did she contribute? What moments stuck with her after all this time and why?

It was difficult, as anyone would imagine, to even think of these events nonetheless offer detailed answers about them. Yet, it was strange. Jo found that once she forced herself through the first few words, more and more would come spilling out . Even more strange than that was the relief each departing word gave her. As if she were a tree, bowed and weighed down by tons of snow; each memory shared melted more and more snow, lightening her shoulders and back from the strain of holding them for so long.

On the Second of April, Bethany Wilks had decided they would not be holding their appointment in her office. Instead, she simply offered Jo her arm and apparated them away. Jo frowned once they arrived, the familiar shop fronts and cobblestone road of Diagon Alley causing her stomach to clench.

"I know, you hate it here," Beth said quietly, laying a hand on her patient's arm. "But, I believe it's time you faced this. This place is both a source of joy and pain for you, and-"

"I get it." Jo exhaled sharply, turning away from the woman to lead her deeper into the shopping district. "Let's just do this."

Beth followed quietly, a whisper of doubt in her mind as Jo stomped ahead of her. The witch's shoulders had gone rigid, head ducked and hands shoved deep into her pockets; the picture of discomfort. However, she hushed her doubts, confident this was the next step for her patient. The shop, Beth believed, held much more potential than a dusty museum of memories.

Jo didn't stop once they reached **The Man With Many Hats**. The door opened at her touch, hinges squeaking with age and disuse. Slowly, she took her first steps inside, a decade of dust rousing beneath her boots. The sconces on the walls flared to life, cobwebs sizzling loudly in the flames. She heard Beth draw in a breath, instantly coughing when dust invaded her mouth and nostrils.

It was like entering a different realm or going back in time. Everything was just as she had left it. Shelves laden with the most nonsensical assortment of products, signs posted on top of one another to indicate the many offered goods. The counter still had yellowed and furling receipts and logs across its surface, a quill buried beneath the dust from when she had last used it. Her grandfather's portrait was empty, the subject more than likely back home having long given up on seeing this place open.

Jo tried to decipher her own feelings on the sight of the shop. Overall, she supposed she just felt sad. Saddened by the state of her Grandfather's and Father's pride and joy. Saddened by the fact she was the cause of it. Saddened it had taken her so long to open the door.

"That was my Father's favorite shelf." Her voice came out raspier than normal. "It's-it was connected to another shop in America, California to be exact."

"Really? How does that work?"

Jo only shrugged, the knowledge on it lost to her at the moment. "They're all like that. Each shelf has a sister in another shop, somewhere else far away. A person simply walks in- there was some charmwork on the door which picked through the customers need or desires, depending on the person- then a corresponding shelf would pull the item through."

"That's… _amazing_. How did you ever figure out the spellwork for it? It sounds very complex." Beth sounded truly astonished. Jo only snorted, shrugging her shoulders once more.

"Wasn't me. My Grandfather opened this place back in the Forties. He tried explaining it to me, but, like you said, it was all very complex." Stuffing her hands back into her pockets, Jo leaned against the counter, eyes trailing slowly over every nook and cranny she had memorized since childhood. Everything looked quite good under all that dust. She couldn't see any obvious signs of disrepair or rotting. There weren't any signs of pests, magical or mundane, which was a relief.

 _It really wouldn't take more than a good cleaning, probably a new coat of paint, reopening business contracts, updating the charms_ , she thought idly. She and Beth jumped at the sound of a weighty **thunk** , the tinny clang of metal bouncing against the floor echoing loudly. The dust cloud it produced came from behind the counter. Jo leaned over to see whatever had fallen, eyebrows hiked high in confusion.

A silver key.

A silver key that she'd left behind all those years ago.

"Huh."

"What is it?," Beth whispered, wand in hand as she joined Jo at the counter.

"Apparently…what I need."

* * *

"I've decided to call him Norbert." Hagrid, misty eyed and proud as any new mum could be, stared down at the baby dragon. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron murmured, truly concerned for the giant man's mental state.

"Hagrid," Harry said loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip, clearly undecided on how to handle this baby dragon business- even as Norbert belched flames at Fang.

"I- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't just dump him, I can't."

"Well, what about Jo? I bet she'd know a good place for Norbert to live."

Hagrid turned thoughtful at the suggestion. Ron, however, had a better idea.

"Better yet, how about Charlie? Seeing as he already _lives_ with dragons." Ron turned to Hagrid, an almost pleading tone for the man to see reason. "How about it, Hagrid? We'll ask Charlie to take Norbert to Romania. He'll be right at home with all the other dragons there."

In the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie and ask him. Hermione and Ron also agreed that Harry should not tell Jo about the dragon. With Malfoy and his smug attitude already, they thought Hagrid had more than enough to worry about without bringing anyone else into the mix.

And once more, it was decided Harry would keep yet another secret from Jo.

* * *

"NO!"

Harry gasped, sitting up suddenly as the fading image of a hooded figure, with blood dripping from a mysterious mouth, danced behind his eyes. His forehead throbbed, the lightning bold scar pulsing in time with his erratic heartbeat. Tearing off the blankets, he nearly threw himself from the bed to instead settle against the window sill. The chilled panes cooled his sweat slicked head and alleviated the throbbing.

Since his detention in the forest, this horrible pain had plagued him night and day. Neville, who had started speaking to him again, thought it was caused by exam nerves. Which he had yet another of in the morning- History of Magic.

Peering across the room, he found Ron's blurry figure diagonally across his own bed, snoring loudly as was expected. He was almost envious of his friend, who's dreams were clearly not plagued by dark lords and green lights. However, he knew sleep would elude him tonight. Neville had been right about the nerves, only they weren't caused by exams. No, the cause lay solely in the Philosopher's Stone and Voldemort's intent to reach it. To make matters worse, it seemed like he was the only one worried about it. Ron and Hermione were too busy with studying to be worried with Snape, Voldemort, and the Stone.

Harry knew what he had to do, who he had to tell. Hermione's and Ron's worries be damned.

 _Jo would listen. She'd know what to do._

So, pulling his glasses from the nightstand, Harry went about finding parchment and quill. Returning to the window sill, he started to write. He wrote until his hand cramped and his eyes blurred, head lolling around as sleep finally found him.

When Ron rustled him awake, still curled in the window, he had to rush around just to make it for Breakfast's last call. The letter, partially crumpled beneath a book, lay forgotten on the floor.

* * *

 **The Man With Many Hats** had started gaining quite a bit of attention. Over the past couple months, the patrons and business owners of Diagon Alley had been witness to the gradual renovation of the dusty old shop. It had started near the end of April, lights behind the dirty windows providing a glimpse of an unknown figure moving about inside. Then, sometime in May, the windows had been properly cleaned and detailed.

Josephine Delacroix and a house elf, plus a few others here and there, could be seen cleaning and painting. Excited chatter started, rumors that the shop would be opening soon- it had to be!

"The Daily Prophet said the Eighth of June."

"Well, I heard it's still a year. Next spring."

"Marvin told Bill she's selling it- Yes, I swear it."

Truth be told, Jo hadn't actually decided if she would open the shop at all. Her only goal had been to clean and remodel. After that was done, she planned to introduce the idea to Harry. If he agreed, then she would open sometime during the summer. Just in time for back-to-Hogwarts shopping.

"Merlin-" Jo yawned, jaw cracking from the force of it. "Who knew painting could be so damn exhausting."

They had to clean and paint the shelves the muggle way, worried the magic could interfere with the spellwork already in place. Poppy, of course, was in her element. The elf always did find cleaning, especially a good deep clean, highly rewarding. Jo couldn't say she understood.

Falling from her crouched position onto her bum, Jo took a moment to look at the now bright red shelf. It did look rather good, freshly painted and waiting to hold things. Its sister sat in Peru- a shop specializing in tokens of good fortune and unique designs. The owner had been beyond words, happily agreeing to renew their business contracts without any fuss. That had, barring a few prickly subjects, been the general response.

Glancing at the clock, Jo realized it was nearing five o'clock. She gave her wand a lazy flick, resealing paint cans, and with another wave, sent the brushes to a tub for cleaning. Once that was done, she gave the shop a quick once over, stretching the tightness from her body as she locked everything up for the night. She was more than ready for supper and a shower, her back twinging in admonishment of her hours of crouching.

"Mistress, dinner be nearly ready. Go wash your hands, they be covered in paint!" Poppy bustled around her, tutting at the state of her while shooing dogs back to the kitchen for their own meals. "You's have mail, as well, Mistress. Young Harry sent a letter this afternoon."

"Did he really? He's nearly done with exams now, I'd think." Jo eagerly accepted the letter and reluctantly, her glasses as well. Sighing, she slipped the frames on and ripped the letter open. Her eyebrows quirked, initially surprised by the length of it. Poppy stopped shooing the dogs, concerned as her Mistress' eyebrows furrowed. The woman's face grew more and more concerned, confusion and panic wrinkling her forehead as she hurriedly read. "P-Pop…Poppy, when did this arrive?"

"Around four, Mistress." The elf watched curiously, nervousness creeping in when Jo flipped the letter around to look for more words. "What be happening, Mistress?"

"I…" Jo paused, re-reading Harry's squished writing, specifically the parts about this Philosopher's Stone and his encounter in the forest. "Poppy, we need to go to Hogwarts."

"Mistress-"

"Now, Poppy. Right fucking now." Jo held her hand out expectantly. She didn't have time for explanations and questions, she needed to see Harry. "Poppy!"

The elf snapped to attention, gripping her Mistress' hand tightly and apparating them away. They landed in Hogsmeade, Jo storming towards the castle up above instantly. Poppy ran after her, little legs working hard to keep pace with her panicked Mistress.

"What be happening, Mistress?"

Jo spared the elf a glance, frown deepening as she considered her answer. "I'm not sure, but whatever it is, it's not good. We need to find Harry."

In that moment, Jo couldn't properly describe the mounting panic and fear overtaking her. Every breath burned, a reminder of how far away her boy was, hidden inside a castle with quite possibly supporters of Voldemort. He was sure of it, Snape to be precise, and that worried her greatly. His words had been a jumbled mess, clearly written during a moment of panic or confusion. The letter left her with a twisting sense of dread and urgency, fear that she was too late electrifying her into action.

What would she find at Hogwarts?

She didn't know, and that in itself made her heart accelerate and breath catch.

Finally, they reached the gates. The tall iron bars were shut, locked tight against intruders and threats. It was almost ironic, considering the threats they held inside.

"Open up, I need to see Dumbledore." When they refused to move, Jo nearly lost herself, kicking the gate harshly. "Listen to me, my boy needs me. Harry needs me. Please, open up! I need to see Dumbledore, I need-"

She lost her breath, the thumping of her heart and buzzing in her brain turning unbearable . Poppy caught her arm, calling for her in panic when Jo bent in half.

She couldn't breathe, Merlin, she couldn't _see_! The ground turned hazy, blurring into swirls and lines of browns and greys. The beating in her chest, much too fast and much too loud, pulsed erratically through her entire body. Her thoughts had turned to static, fuzzy buzzing that whispered ' _Harry, Harry, Harry_ ' over and over again.

Harry.

 _Harry_.

She needed Harry.

She had to find Harry!

Harry might be in danger.

She needed find Harry before…

Before…

 _Before._

"OPEN THE FUCK UP!"

Poppy shrieked in fright, jumping away as Jo's magic expanded out and _down_. Large shafts of rock and dirt shot from the ground, battering the gates mercilessly. The witch brandished her right wand, throwing spells of increasing intensity while the earth beat the bars. Shockwaves of raw magic rippled around them, a terrifying display that reminded Poppy too much of _that_ night.

"Mistress, you must stop! Mistress!" Poppy shrieks were ignored, the woman lost in her destruction of their obstacle. "Mistress, please!"

"Miss Delacroix."

Jo froze, the haze in her mind nearly vanishing at the sound of that voice. Poppy ran forward then, gripping her Mistress' right arm to lower the wand. The witch turned quickly, eyes wide and breathing harshly.

"Dumbledore. Open the gates."

The Headmaster cocked his head slightly, eye glimmering from behind half-moon glasses. When he didn't respond, Jo turned towards him, arms thrown open and expression pleading.

"Please!"

"Miss Delacroix, I must admit, finding you attacking the school gate leaves me rather opposed. Why are you here? You appear extremely upset."

"Dumbledore, please, open the gate. I need to find Harry."

"I assure you, Mister Potter is-"

"Merlin, the stone, Dumbledore. He's worried about the stone!"

That gave the man pause, mouth drawing into a grim line as he stepped around the woman. The gates swung open, Headmaster and witch rushing toward the castle. The doors opened for the Headmaster, welcoming him quickly as he led them towards the grand staircase. It was there that they ran into Hermione Granger, bits of rubble in her hair and robes torn. A ragged and, frankly, beat up Ron Weasley wobbled next to her.

"Headmaster! Oh, thank goodness!" The girl ran to them, nearly tripping and panting. "Please, sir, it's Harry. He went through the black flames! He went to stop-"

"Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?" Dumbledore barely waited for her to nod, flying up the stairs with Jo on his heels. "Miss Delacroix, I must apologize. It seems that even at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter is not entirely safe."

"Well, what do you expect from a Death Eater?," Jo snapped, wands already in hand as they continued to climb. "Poppy, go back to the kids. We'll get Harry." The elf nodded, albeit reluctantly, and ran back down the stairs.

"You believe it's Severus? No, Miss Delacroix, I daresay it is not." He stopped suddenly, holding a hand for her to pause as well. "One moment, the first obstacle is through this door. We're in need of a lullaby." They peered through the door, three giant cerberus heads snorting and huffing as the beast thrashed around angrily.

"A cerberus, Dumbledore, really? In a school," Jo whispered, glaring slightly as the headmaster produced a tiny piano to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. "Go on then, it's asleep."

Down the trapdoor they fell, Jo releasing a ball of fire to untangle the devil's snare. Dumbledore didn't waste time on the flying keys, all doors of Hogwarts opening for the Headmaster. The chess pieces remained still, allowing them to cross easily. Jo openly glared, nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell of the unconscious troll. She didn't have time to admonish the man, though. They had entered the final obstacle.

"Ah, now, this might be tricky." She and Dumbledore paused, locked inside the room with potions as purple and black flames overtook the doorways. "Only one of us can pass through."

"Well, it's not going to be you."

"But alas, it must be." Dumbledore gave her solemn nod, gulped the potion and walked through the flames.

"No, no no no. Dumbledo-" Jo stopped, panic ebbing as the flames dissipated completely, leaving the next chamber open to enter. Dumbledore stood on the other side, eyes twinkling just a tad as he motioned her forward.

"Come, let us find Harry."

There was a terrible scream from ahead, echoing down the chamber to spur them into action. She wasn't sure what to expect, the fear inside consuming her mind with terrible images- images too terrible to describe. She sped past Dumbledore, ignoring his calls as she descended into the unknown. She had to find Harry.

Harry, her tiny little boy, had a strong hold of Quirinus Quirrell's arm, the man flailing wildly as he released ear grating screeches of pain. Seeing the stuttering man, quirky mild Quirrell, desperately try to thrash Harry nearly caused her to pause. However, it didn't really matter who it was that had created all of this chaos.

"HARRY!"

Because in the end, that part of her, the piece that hadn't really ever left after the war; that part knew she was going to kill him.

"Diffindo."

Quirrell's screeches turned horrified, gutteral and pained as his arm was severed completely from the elbow. Harry fell backwards, Dumbledore's quick wandwork catching the unconscious boy before he could hit his head. The Headmaster easily levitated the boy backwards, tucking him away safely behind them as they faced Quirrell.

The man glared up at them, face partially burned and blistered, as he clutched his missing arm. A whimper escaped him, face crumpling in pain and fear.

"M-master, what do I do?"

"Professor Quirrell, you are very unwell. Come with me, Quirinus. Let me help you." Dumbledore's calm voice seemed to only irritate the man more. As the Headmaster stepped forward, Quirrell shakily raised his wand. The motion was telling, this was not his wand arm.

"Don't come any closer." There was a hissing, indiscernible words floating through the air. The man twitched, shaking his head jerkily as he mumbled to himself. "Master…not strong…My wand arm…"

"Quirinus." Dumbledore called his name sternly. Jo looked at him quickly, both wands still trained on the clearly unhinged man below. Dumbledore gave her one slow nod. "Look at me. We can help you."

Quirrell resumed shaking his head, muttering to himself as the motion became jerkier and faster.

"NO!"

He tried to cast, clumsy and fumbling with the wrong arm. Jo didn't wait. Her left arm threw up a quick protego, the right swishing and flicking so quickly it blurred. The man grunted in surprise, feet lifting from the floor as he was propelled backwards. The Mirror of Erised shattered upon impact, long shards of glass gouging deeply into his spine and arms as thick ropes bound him, and his body began to stiffen like a board.

"Master…" He didn't finish, instead his words turned into a wrenching scream. The most overwhelming pain took him, blinding and choking as his master abandoned him to fate.

The Headmaster and witch recoiled in horror. There was an appalling sound of skin ripping, Quirrell's screams turning desperate as _something_ black and ghostly escaped from his head. Jo raised her wand again, throwing spells at the spectral parasite as it flew higher and higher. They passed through it like smoke, burning and charring the walls on the other side. The thing hissed in what could only be laughter as it merely disappeared.

She continued to stare above them, watching for any indication that it was coming back. Bile rose up her throat, the chill of fear in her chest greater than she had felt all night. Harry had wrote that Voldemort was after the stone, a means to life for the monster stuck in the dark. And he had just escaped, flew away laughing as she could do nothing to stop him. Where would he go now?

What would he do next?

* * *

She stayed in the hospital wing for three nights, just watching and waiting as Harry remained unconscious. Poppy had returned home, shaken and scared by the events. The elf had wanted to stay, to oversee Harry's return to health, but Jo sent her away. The house needed someone there, and she needed quiet. She promised to notify the elf the moment Harry awoke, though.

Dumbledore had been furious with her. She'd paralyzed Quirrell from the waist down and cut off his wand arm. Due to the overwhelming amount of dark magic residing in his body after playing host to Voldemort, he had very little chance of regaining his arm or spinal functions.

"You have permanently disabled the man, Josephine. He was not in the right mind, he needed help." Dumbledore had admonished her, pacing his office as she stared out the window. Down below, the medics from Mungo's were levitating Quirrell away, strapped and sedated to a stretcher.

"He tried to kill Harry." Personally, she had no remorse for what she had done to Quirinus Quirrell.

"On the orders of a dark wizard that had taken over his mind and body. What was the man to do?," he asked, imploring her to understand the man's situation. She understood it just fine.

"Not play host to Voldemort? Or perhaps, seek help? Or, most of all," she faced him, eyes hard and scowling. "Not try to kill my kid."

She pushed away from the window, passing a glance over the many leafs of parchment and doodads littered across his desk. He sighed deeply at her, twinkling eyes dimming as he tried to find the compassion she had at one time held.

"Speaking of not killing my kid, what was it you promised me again?" She could feel his stare, meeting his disappointed gaze for only a moment before returning to his many possessions.

"I promised to keep Mister Potter safe." He frowned when she started touching things; his candy dish, a quill, the sneakoscope. "And I failed. I am sorry, Miss Delacroix. When I had learned of young Harry's curiosity of the Philosopher's Stone, I had not anticipated his trying to save it."

"Bullshit," she retorted instantly, picking up a rather intricately designed tobacco pipe. "He's a Potter and a Gryffindor. What else would he do?"

"Seek out help from someone much more capable, I would hope."

She snorted at him, and he sighed. It was a silly notion, really. Young Harry Potter, neglected at the hands of his family and taught independence at much too young an age, had little inclination to seek the assistance of adults. Especially when the adult he finally did turn to had a poor inclination for alcohol and a history of failing him.

"Right. This is a very nice pipe, by the way." She held it up, inspecting it in the torchlight.

"Ahem, yes. It was a wonderful find in-"

"Oops."

"Miss Delacroix." Dumbledore huffed, only slightly, watching tiredly as the pipe smashed against the entrance steps of the castle. When she returned to his desk, fingers dancing over more objects, he raised a hand in pleading. "Please do not toss anymore of my possessions from the window. You've made your point."

"Great. I'd rather not have this discussion again, Dumbledore." Jo frowned back at him, pausing near the door as he retook his seat at the desk. "You do understand he's only a kid, right? He's not some superhero or savior from above. You can't…he can't handle this type of shit. What happened in that chamber, it's going to stick with him for the rest of his life."

"I understand, Miss Delacroix." He nodded slowly, shoulders slumping with the newest weight of responsibility. "But one day, he will face something much worse than what happened tonight."

"Why?"

She thought her question would catch him off guard, but perhaps it didn't. He only tilted his head slightly, solemn eyes clouding with secrets and sadness as she waited for his response. When he turned away, offering none, she asked again.

"Why does he have to face any of this? Why is Voldemort so obsessed with a boy?"

"You've always said his name." Dumbledore said instead, lips tilting in a half smile. "It always impressed me, in a way. This young woman, so angry and unafraid. I always thought, if Voldemort appeared before you, there wouldn't be a moment of hesitation. Even wandless, you would have faced him using anything at your disposal. Is it hatred that leaves you so unafraid to speak his name?"

What was the point of this now? Why ask her this instead of answering her question? She remained silent, confused and irritated with the man as he gazed out the window.

"I shall answer your question, Miss Delacroix." Stroking his beard with that sad little half-smile, he finally turned to look at her again. "Once I myself have found the answer."

And then, he had bid her a goodnight, the office door swinging open and shut with a wave of his hand. She'd glared at the door, a strong exhale leaving her nose before finally descending the spiral staircase. There wasn't a bone in her body that believed Albus Dumbledore didn't have the answer.

* * *

"Sir, there's one more thing…"

"Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

Jo leaned her head back against the wall, listening from the hall as Dumbledore answered Harry's final question. She'd, rather stupidly it seemed, agreed to McGonnagall's invitation for breakfast in the Great Hall. Harry had woken up while she was gone, and Dumbledore, of course, was the first person to greet him. When she'd returned, the two had been deep in discussion about Voldemort and the Stone.

"Alas! Ear wax!" At that very Dumbledore parting, the man swept from the infirmary. He offered her a nod, eyes twinkling and tiny smile in place. She frowned in response, waiting until he was out of the hall before going inside the medical wing.

"Jo, you're here?" He stared at her in confusion, moving to sit up before wincing and leaning back down.

"Of course, been here for three days." She tried to smile, but her legs were turning to jelly as she walked. Merlin, it was so good to see him awake. She collapsed onto his bed, that smile she had been reaching for finally coming to life at the sight of his bright green eyes and wobbly smile.

"Did they notify you? I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. I had to stop Voldemort from taking the stone! And Dumbledore was gone, and-" He suddenly gasped, eyes turning watery by the presence of her. "And I wanted to tell you. I've wanted to tell you for months about e-everything. I'm s-sorry."

She stared at him in confusion, brushing fingers through his hair as he tried to hide his tears behind an arm.

"What in the world are you apologizing for?," she asked gently, wiping stray tears from his chin as his bottom lip wobbled and sniffles wiggled his nose. "Oh, kid. I'm not mad at you. I'm so damn happy to see you're okay. Merlin." After a moment, he finally peeked at her over his arm, eyes still wet but the sniffling gone. "Besides, you did tell me. That's why I came here that night after you sent me that letter."

"I-" Harry hiccoughed, rubbing the final tears from his eyes as his eyebrows knit in confusion. "I didn't send you any letters."

And indeed, he hadn't. He gasped in surprise when she showed it to him. It was the letter he had written in the middle of the night, forgotten come morning in his rush. The two puzzled over it for a minute, neither coming to any solid conclusion as to who could have sent it. Regardless, Harry was relieved it had been. The guilt of not telling Jo and nearly dying without her knowing why had eaten right through him.

"Can you make me a promise?" She had readjusted their positions, him leaning against her shoulder as she curiously rifled through his many get-well gifts. "Trust me when I say, I understand that you're brave and tough as shit, and I am, in fact, extremely proud of you, _but_ next time anything of interest or, y'know, danger pops up, tell me. _Please_."

"Yeah, I can definitely do that." Hermione and Ron could argue all they wanted, Harry would keep that promise. Better than nearly dying at the hands of a teacher. Or a three-headed dog. Or a plant. Or a chessboard. He quite liked being alive, actually.

She hugged him close, closing her eyes and leaning a cheek on his hair with a quiet sigh of relief. If she could, she'd stay like that all day. Her boy, safe and alive, held close and hugging her just as tight. The moment came to an end, though, when Poppy, followed closely by Ron and Hermione, pushed through the doors with great excitement. Jo should feel guilty, having left the elf waiting for quite some time, but she was grateful for the time alone. She needed it, and she thought Harry did too.

"I'll be back in a minute. I promised Professor McGonnagall an update once you woke up." He waved her off, consumed quickly by his new visitors. She could hear Madam Pomfrey scolding them for too much noise as the doors swung shut.

A head of sandy blond hair caught her eye, blue eyes widening at her stare from around the corner. Sighing, she gave a little wave and a small smile. A round faced little boy slowly emerged, fingers twisting in his robe as he shuffled towards her.

"Hey."

"H-Hullo. Are you H-Harry Potter's…." He trailed off, blushing when she quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "Are you the w-woman who…"

"I'm his guardian, yeah. Did you want to see him?"

"Oh, I'm not sure if I should. Ron and Hermione are his friends, really. I'm just in his class." He glanced up at her through his hair, eyes quickly dropping to the floor again. "I was just wondering if he was alright?"

"Seems so, yeah. Just woke up a little while ago." She cocked her head, thinking the boy looked familiar. "Why don't you go in? I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"O-Oh. If you say so…" He trailed off again, glancing at the door then back to the floor. Shrugging, Jo gave his shoulder a pat as she walked past. He glanced up at her quickly, cheeks reddening once more at her little smile and wink.

"Go for it." When she got to the corner, she found he hadn't moved from the spot, still contemplating the door Harry sat behind. "Well, go on, then. No use thinking about it so much." She waved him off, finally turning the corner.

She passed many students on her way to McGonnagall's office. Clumps of them milled around the halls, whispering and shouting over one another about the many rumors of what had happened. A few stopped mid-sentence, staring at her with wide eyes when she walked by. _The rumor mill going strong as ever_ , Jo thought with a snort.

When she arrived at the office door, she was surprised to hear quite loud wailing and sniffling coming from inside. Hesitantly, she knocked, eyebrows raising in surprise when Hagrid's unmistakable voice shouted in response.

"Oh for pete's sake, man. Pull yourself together." McGonnagall's scolding bled through the door. Heels clicked against the floor, the door opening only a crack as the woman peered out. "It's only Delacroix, Hagrid. I'm letting her in."

"Tha's fine. Jo's good people, she is." A great honk sounded then, Hagrid blowing his nose into a worn handkerchief as Jo slipped into the room. "Hullo, Jo. I-Is Harry awake then?"

"Yeah, awake and eating all the candy people sent him. Apart from a few bumps and a dreadful headache, kid's right as rain." Jo offered the man a smile, but he continued to cry. "Ehm, what's wrong, Hagrid?"

"It's Fluffy! Dumbledore says I'm ter be rid of 'im. Says there's no space fer 'im here." The man released another wail, burying his face into the handkerchief. McGonnagall sighed, staring at the man in exasperation.

"Right." Jo turned to the Professor again, eyebrow quirked as she mouthed 'who?'.

"His cerberus. Now that the stone is gone, the Headmaster, rightfully so, thinks it would be too unsafe for the students. That and, there really isn't a place to put him."

"He could live in the forest, he could! S'bloody big 'nough." Hagrid exclaimed from within the handkerchief. "He jus' needs somewhere ter run. He's been cooped up in tha' room, no wonder he's so mad."

"I'm sorry, Hagrid, but it's on Dumbledore's order. The cerberus has to go." McGonnagall gave the man a pat on the arm but nodded resolutely. The giant man honked and hiccoughed some more before nodding his own head slightly.

"I know, I know…S'just hard s'all. Firs', Norbert, and now, Fluffy. S'like giving away family. Doesn't feel righ', doesn't feel righ' at all." He dabbed at his eyes some more, sniffling as quietly as he could. Jo could feel his sadness, an almost tangible cloud of grief hovering over all of their heads. And before she'd even realized it, she'd gone and said something terribly stupid.

"I can take him, Hagrid."

Hagrid looked at her as if he could kiss her, a broad smile working its way across his face.

"Woul' ya really? Oh, Jo, I knew yeh was good people!"

McGonnagall stared at her in a way that most would stare at a stark naked man running down the road. Jo really couldn't blame her.

"Yeah, I suppose. Let me meet him first."

What could she say, she'd always had a soft spot for strays. Even three-headed, taller than a house strays.

* * *

Harry blinked. He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes and cleaning the lenses before looking again.

Fluffy, the three-headed monster dog that had tried to eat him, whined and groaned as Jo scolded him heatedly. When one head turned towards her, big dopey eyes wide and sad, she pointed a finger at it threateningly. A third year Ravenclaw crouched behind a suit of armor, absolutely petrified by the scene in front of her.

"Do **not** give me that look. We don't snarl at kids. You'd better act right," she finished, tone sharp and posture strong. The middle head grumbled while the other two lowered. All three sets of ears had laid back, long tail tucked as the cerberus melted into the floor in a submissive position. With a sharp exhale through her nose, Jo turned towards the girl. "Go on then, he won't bite ya."

She didn't have to be told twice. The girl bolted from the hiding place, disappearing through the doors of the Great Hall without a glance back.

"Oh, hey, Harry."

"H-hey." Harry slowly approached, keeping his eyes alert for any snapping jaws or rolling eyes. "Why do you have Fluffy?"

Jo huffed again, shrugging her shoulders and glaring off to the side.

"Because I'm a fucking idiot, that's why. I'm taking him home with me." The three heads whined at her, massive body shuffling against the floor to nudge the right head's nose against her hand. She smiled slightly, running a hand over the top of the head as the other two perked up.

"I-" Harry stopped, looking at the three-headed dog closely. It looked so different in the light of day, not cramped inside a dark musty room. The rolling red eyes were actually brown, and quite similar to Taffy's when she wanted attention and cuddles. "Is he…y'know, gonna eat me? Or anyone else at home?"

"Nah, he's a good boy," she reached out, scratching wherever she could reach as her voice turned overindulging. "Isn't that right? You're just a good boy, such a good boy! You were just locked inside a itty-bitty fucking room without even a squeaky toy. You just need lots of attention and room, huh? Don't you?"

The great beast was on its back now, wiggling and waggling all over as Jo climbed onto its stomach and scritched and scratched until his back leg started kicking uncontrollably. Harry couldn't help but laugh, honest to Merlin laugh. The three heads had their tongues lolling about, happy as can be by the attention.

"See?" Jo smiled over at him, breathless and covered in giant strands of dog fur. "Just a big baby in need of a big place and loving family."

"Oh, alright. But you better not eat Taffy. That's my dog." He gave Fluffy the sternest look he could muster, trying hard not to laugh at the dopey expression on all three faces. "Will you be picking me up at King's Cross, then?"

The sounds of the feast bled into the hall, everyone inside unaware of the happenings outside the doors. Jo glanced around, listening to all the happy chatter and laughter erupting from inside.

"Yeah, we'll be there. Try not to get into any trouble before then, yeah?"

"Cross my heart." She grimaced at the expression, not at all a fan of the implication of his dying.

"I hope," she threw him a smirk, finally crawling off of the dog to wrap him up in a tight hug. When she pulled away, she nodded him towards the Great Hall. Her arms crossed, squinting with a concerned frown when he laughed and started for the door. She couldn't tell if he was alright or not. She had expected him to be just a tad more shaken by his very real near-death experience, but so far, he'd been rather _cheerful_.

"Oh!" He stopped short of the door, throwing her a tiny little smile. "It was Neville, by the way. He's the one who sent my letter. Said he found it while looking for his toad, and thought I'd forgotten to."

"Well, you'll have to thank him for me. Might even have to invite him for dinner; a 'thanks for saving Harry' feast."

Harry laughed a little while nodding, cheeks tinging in embarrassment at the thought of thanking Neville, especially after leaving him on the floor petrified all night. He owed the boy much more than a thank-you. He might very well owe the boy his life.

"Better get in there. End of the year feast is, quite literally, the best."

"Yeah," Harry sighed out, wrinkling his nose. "Except Slytherin won the House Cup this year. Y'know, since I lost us so many points."

Jo only shrugged. "Then you try hard for it next year, is all."

"I hope next year goes better."

"Ay, me too, kid. Me too."


End file.
